


The Empty Ones

by Mushibomelon



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Chocobros - Freeform, Gen, MT!Prompto, gladio is protective, idk where this is going, iggy is just here for the ride and the recipehs, ill add more tags as I go, noctis is a bro from the first moment, prompto is basically a lost puppy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mushibomelon/pseuds/Mushibomelon
Summary: Noctis is always prepared to fight the pesky MTs that seem to drop from the air every five minutes. It's become something of a mindless routine. Gladio shouts. They pull over. The ship drops the enemies and they take them out. He's sure Iggy and Gladio just go through the motions as numbly as he does by now. So it's hard to know what to do when a supposed enemy disrupts your routine. MTs aren't suppose to like chocobos, right?----Or in which, Prompto never escaped Niflheim and he's an MT. Of course, being Prompto, his need to kill is overpowered by his love for our favorite feathered friends!





	1. Should We Kill It?

**Author's Note:**

> Based on how MTs are created and how they work, I’m taking some liberties and changing the cannon a bit. (at least, I think I am?) The demons inside the suits are still demons, per se, but more human than not, since they were humans to being with~ but idk, this was a “on the whim” kind of thing and I just wanted to see a cute MT Prompto not fit in with his dangerous brethren. Also, not edited!

“Noct! Overhead!” 

He could have sworn that was the hundredth time Gladio called out to him, swinging his hand towards the sky where a damn ship was slowly crawling towards them.   
Noct’s bitter frown deepened as he gripped the reigns of his chocobo and yanked back. The creature halted with a jerk, its little wings fluttering fretfully as it dug its claws into the ground. Ignis and Gladiolus followed suit. 

“We may be able to outrun them,” Ignis supplied, his own appearance ruffled after a long day of back to back fights. 

“Naw,” Noct waved it off with a sigh. All he wanted to do was collect some stupid stones for Dino and drive back to Galdin Quay. But after several detours and more hunts in an effort to gain gil and pick up a slack in their supplies, they had ended up near the Malacchi Hills. He was, understandably, frustrated. And knocking around some MTs sounded almost therapeutic. 

“Let’s just get this over with and find a camp or somethin’.” He flung his leg over the saddle and hopped off the large bird. It ‘kweehed’ and trotted away, the other two following as they darted from the looming shadow. 

Gladiolus was already grinning, his sword hefted up across his shoulder and his hand clasping Noct on the back. The prince fumbled forward on tired feet and shot him a scathing scowl. 

“Come on, your highness. With how much you’ve been slacking, I can bet I’ll take out half as many tin cans as you.”

The banter stirred a small twinge of competitiveness in Noctis, the same that Gladio was always able to bring out no matter the situation. Ingis huffed beside them and summoned his daggers. 

“If you two are quite down making petty wages, I’d like to see this done before the sun is down. We haven’t many potions left.” 

“Okay, mom,” Noct snorted, summoning his own weapon. The sleek blade of his engine blade glinted off the dwindling sunlight. “Give me five minutes.”

The MTs were dropping as soon as the airship’s hatch uncurled. Their heavy boots struck the sloping hill of grass. Gladio smirked and shoved Noct back a few steps. 

“Give me two.”

“One.” Noct snapped, shouldering past Gladio. He was already preparing his blade for a powerful swing, slamming its sharp edge into the side of a magitek soldier. It stumbled to the ground and Noct phased away, leaving a trail of blue as he appeared behind another trooper and sliced his blood sword through its helmet. It fell with a thump, pink static cracking along its wound before it disintegrated into a cloud of black smoke. 

Switching out the smaller sword for a lance, he phased around the swinging axes and swords, grimacing when the body of a trampled MT flew past him. He phased behind a trooped, drilling a hole clean through its back and out its chest. When it fell, Gladio was already taking out another MT and tossing its body to the side with a heavy sweep of his blade. 

“Four!” Gladio crowed. 

Noct ripped his lance free and cut down a trooped trying to blindly cave his face in. It fell to its knees but still reached out towards him. With a practiced grace, Noct summoned his daggers and buried them in its head and neck with deadly aim. It didn’t die until he forced his engine blade into its chest. 

He lost count of how many he had taken out (not that he’d tell Gladio ~ didn’t matter if he guessed) and by the time he was sucking in heavier breaths, Ignis was calling over to him for help. The retainer had taken the liberty of pursuing their more distant targets - riflemen. 

They were easy enough to kill, but were a pain when it came to their numbers. Luckily, Iggy was halfway through their ranks, fighting without the brashness that he and Gladio used. 

“Noct!” Iggy called to him again and Noctis, already feeling utterly drained, prepped himself for the final onslaught. Dagger imbedded themselves in the troopers, sharp badges glinting like tokens before metal was torn apart and electricity rippled eagerly. Noctis flew from one MT to the next, striking them down and leaving a trail of black smoke in his wake. It was a matter of seconds before he landed the last blow and the three friends were left, once more, to themselves. 

Noct placed his hands on his knees after he suspended his weapon. He sucked in a breath and look towards the darkening sky. “I’m ready for bed,” he groaned. 

“Kid’s right,” Gladio looked, for once in his life, tired. “Let’s make camp for the night.”

“The nearest haven is no more than a few miles from here. We should grab our steads and make haste,” Ignis added. 

“How about some Cup Noodles tonight?” Gladio asked, taking the lead towards where their chocobos had run off to. 

“How about something a bit more nutritious? We’re a long ways off from… actually, I’m not sure what our current goal is. It appears we’ve become a tad sidetracked.”

“Let’s worry about it in the morning,” Noct yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “Where the hell’d those birds go?”

The three friends trekked down the hill, searching for a telltale splash of yellow among the sparse foliage and trees. They were surprised to find only two of the large birds pacing nervously, their heads bobbing back and forth in agitation. 

“Hey, calm down now,” Noct reached out, gripping a reign and attempting to shush one of the birds. It’s pupils still darted to and fro, wings flapping and strong legs restlessly shifting. “What’s got these two in a bunch?”

Ignis sighed and pet the ruffled feathers of the other chocobo. “It appears camp will have to wait. Wherever our other chocobo is, I’m afraid unwanted company is as well.”  
Noctis groaned and dramatically threw his head back. “I just wanna sleep…”

“We all do,” Gladio was already stomping through a thicker trail of bushes where the branches had been trampled. “So let’s find the bird and leave. Whatever has the others spooked, it can’t be as bad as Deadeye.”

“Now you’re just jinxing it,” Noct grumbled. 

He and Ignis left the two chocobos to their pacing and hurried after Gladio, who had already disappeared through the underbrush. Noct thought once or twice about calling the missing bird with his whistle, but thought against it. If something was out there, it’d probably come tramping after them too. 

Noct was on the verge of falling asleep when he ran into the back of Gladio. The big man grabbed the prince and leveled him with a hardened stare and a finger to his lips. He pointed through the brush. 

Noct leaned forward with Iggy near his shoulder. He heard the soft chirp of the missing chocobo before he saw it. It was on the other side of the small clearing, its tail feathers shaking against the breeze as it lowered its head and brought it back up in an indignant snort. 

It was a startling sight to see the metal glove of an MT petting its neck. Even more unsettling to witness those piercing red eyes stare blindly at the chocobo’s face, its weapon nowhere on its person. 

“I’ll take care of this,” Gladio was about to summon his blade. Noct held up a hand and grabbed his elbow, the two exchanging a look before Noct bit his lip. 

“This feels off,” he whispered. “Something's wrong.”

“Uh, you mean the fact that an MT is touching our ride outta here like some kind of dog? Yeah, I don’t think wrong is the right word. Maybe weird.” 

“Gentlemen,” Ignis interrupted. “Is it… feeding our chocobo?”

They all peeked back out through the brush, huddling together to get a better look. The MT had stooped low to tear off a chunk of bundling weeds from its feet. Automatic and stiff, it brought the grass to the chocobo’s beak. The bird shook its head and squawked, refusing anything that wasn’t like its usual feed. 

Gladio chuckled and ruffled Noct’s hair. “Look. It’s just like you.”

“Shut up,” Noct growled, shoving the hand away. “What is it doing? Why is it not stabbing?”

“Perhaps something is amiss in its wiring?” Ignis suggested. “Or maybe we’re all sleep deprived and are witnessing an illusion.”

The MT cocked its head when the chocobo refused its offering. Its frozen face, stoically creepy green mask and thin-lined lips, took notice of everything around itself before reaching out and plucking a few white flowers from near the tree trunk. They were wilted and browning and the chocobo turned its head up with another snort. The MT’s hand fell and it almost looked sad. 

“Should we… interupt?”

They all glanced at another, taking in Gladio’s suggestion with unsure looks. 

“Like, kill it? Do you think it’ll attack if we step out?” Noct asked. 

“Only one way to find out.” Before they could stop him, Gladio was pushing his way through the brush. Noct grabbed his arm and dug his heels in, being drug out with him. Ignis followed behind them, calm and collected as ever, a subtle tension in his shoulders as they all fell into the open. 

The MT perked its head up and stiffened. Its hand fell to its hip and then across its chest, searching for a weapon that it didn’t have. 

“Looking for something?’ Gladio asked, his sword glistening as it came to life in a veil of blue light. 

The chocobo became agitated and began to back up. The MT’s attention snapped back to the bird and it held its hands up as if hoping to calm it down. It left its back open and exposed, plenty of room for a killing blow. And it would have been on is knees and fading to smoke had Noct not stepped before Gladio and ordered him to stop. 

“You can’t just kill it!” 

“It’s an MT,” Gladio growled. 

“Yeah, but can’t we just leave it alone?” Noct glanced back at the machine and noticed how it had managed to grab the chocobo’s back and steady the creature, tailings it hands through its feathers as if hoping to soothe. “It doesn’t feel right just killing it. It didn’t attack us.”

“And it will unless we take it out.”

“You’d rather leave it out here, out near a road where any civilians can pass by?” Ignis spoke up. “Who knows how long this spell will last. For all we know, it may be ready to snap at a moment’s notice.”

“Iggy’s right. Let’s take it out. Better safe than sorry.”

“It’s just doesn’t feel right,” Noct mumbled.

They all seemed to loosen up enough to watch the MT. It was currently stroking the bird, settling it back down and - much to their surprise - wrapped its arms around its neck. It stayed like that for a long time.

“Is it… is it killing it?” Gladio ventured. 

“No, I don’t believe it’s strangling the poor creature. I’m not sure what it’s doing.”

“I think it’s hugging it.”

“Okay. This is weird,” Gladio said. 

“Ignis. How far are we from the main road?” Noct asked. 

Iggy shrugged. “Hard to tell, though I’d guess that we’re a good several miles back. Why do you ask?”

“Well, let’s just leave it out here. It’s not close to the road so it won’t bother anyone.”

“Why are you so hung up on keeping that thing alive?” 

Noct crossed his arms and looked away. “I don’t know. I’d feel icky killing it. It’s not doing anything.”

Gladio and Ignis exchanged worn down looks. Both had slight bags under their eyes and when Noct didn’t want to do something, it was damn near impossible to tell him otherwise. They silently nodded to each other in unspoken agreement. 

“Fine. But I’m not peeling our ride out from under it,” Gladio said. 

Noct breath a small sigh of relief. It was unlike him to have any show of compassion for Niflheim or its army, but the hunk of metal before them sparked a worrying amount of pity in the prince. It didn’t even care if it had been struck down. It just wanted to care for the chocobo. 

“I guess I’ll… ask it to leave?” Noct mumbled, taking the last few steps towards the magitek trooper. He heard Gladio and Ingis summon their weapons behind him, felt the tug of it in his chest as he leaned to the side to examine the green face tucked away in a sea of yellow. 

“I, uh, I need this.”

The mask tilted towards him. Noct could swore his saw its body stiffen, but the chocobo remained steady. 

“Can you leave? Please?”

Quiet. 

“You can go now. We won’t hurt you.”

Nothing. 

“Okay! Bye!”

It didn’t move. Noct wanted to pull at his hair in frustration. At this rate, Gladio would kill it just to get to bed. 

“I promise, we’re not gonna hurt the bird, okay?”

The grip loosened slightly and Noct straightened, his grumbling shifting to a soften tone. 

“Yeah… yeah, okay, we need to get it home.”

The MT’s arms snaked back a tad and its fingers unclasped themselves. It still hesitated though. 

“It needs to go home to its family - with all the other chocobos,” Noct stumbled over himself, feeling stupid for talking to this thing like it was a child. “And it needs to eat too. We have… special food for it. You don’t want to let it go hungry, do you?”

And like a key, the words unlocked the MT’s arms from around the bird’s neck and it stood back. It stared at Noct, those red eyes looking at nothing and everything and Noct shivered as he grabbed the chocobo’s reigns and gently led it away. 

“Thanks.” 

None of them talked about the magitek soldier that evening. They just gathered up all their chocobos and followed the wisps of smoke to the nearest haven, settling down and too exhausted to make much more than Cup Noodles (much to Gladio’s pleasure). They didn’t expect to meet that MT again. It was tucked away on some shoulder of hills, probably wandering aimlessly until a pack of saberclaws came and tore it down. He almost felt bad thinking about it. 

‘Well, better wild animals than me.’

And yet, he couldn’t get those red eyes out of his head.


	2. Noodle Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noct and friends try their hand at catching a rouge MT. Unfortunately, there are a few causalities this time (namely, Gladio's noodles ~ R.I.P).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit of a filler ~ because I'm a sucker for that character interaction and Noct being sulky. Also, it leads up to the third chapter and (hopefully builds tension, maybe?) I'm excited to post it, so enjoy.

It was a few days after they had successfully managed to make it back to Galdin Quay and pick up another job from Dino that they heard troubling news. News involving a “red-eyed thing” traveling through the night near the Wiz Chocobo Post. Something that Wiz kept seeing glances of at the edge of his property. It was spooking his birds. 

Gladiolus and Ignis had both turned to Noctis upon hearing the news. 

“What?” He offered lamely, crossing his arms as if clueless to what it could be. But they all knew. 

That MT. 

They were packing themselves into the Regalia and on their way to the outpost only a moment after Dino’s tip. 

“It’s not like it’ll hurt em’.” Noct reasoned, lounging in the back with his feet propped along the open window sill. “We just find it and tell it that it’s scaring the chocobos and it’ll go away.”

“It was a mistake to leave it be,” Ignis chided from behind the steering wheel. “We have no idea what it’s capable of on its own. We find it, kill it, and then be on our way.”

“Like we should have done when we found it.”

Noct sat up to glare at the back of Gladio’s head, his shield ignoring him in favor of his book. The prince laid back down and closed his eyes. 

“Yeah, well, wake me up when we get there.” He couldn’t stop the uneasy feeling that rippled through his stomach. 

By the time they reached the outpost, the feeling hadn’t left, and Noct hadn’t been able to take his much needed nap. Hair askew and bleary eyed, he followed his two friends to Wiz’s usual spot by the tables and he greeted them with a relieved wave. 

“Thank goodness you’re here,” he said. “I can’t keep my eye out every night. I’m too old for this. I thought Deadeye would have been the last thing I’d have to worry about.”

“Trouble on the homefront?” Ignis asked cooly. “A certain red-eyed trespasser?”

Wiz nodded eagerly. “So you know already? Good. Help me out and you boys will have a large helping of gil on your hands, and maybe some new feed I’ve been working on for my chocobos.”

“We’d be happy to help,” Ignis smiled and, upon noticing Noct’s lack of eye contact, elbowed him. 

“Huh? Oh yeah, happy,” he echoed. 

“Very,” Ignis supplied. 

“Well then, go on ahead and settle yourselves in the camper, free of charge! That thing don’t pop up until the sun goes down,” Wiz scratched his head, nails scraping underneath his cap. “It ain’t been bold enough to tread under the lights, but it gets closer every time.”

“We’ll keep it away. For good.” The answer was directed towards Noct, and the prince murmured something under his breath as he shouldered past Gladio to the camper. He wanted a nap. Especially with a few more hours of daylight. 

“I know you’re upset, but it’s not a person,” Ignis was walking beside him, the two stepping down the short slope to the camper. Noct ignored him in favor of pulling open the door and dragging himself up the steps. 

He felt Ingis’ eyes boring into him as he sat down on the nearest bunk and closed his own. He laid back with a weary sigh before answering. “Yeah… I know.”

“It doesn’t sit well with you.”

“That obvious?”

“I saw what it did, your highness. I’m well aware that it displayed very human actions. But we can’t allow it to disrupt Wiz’s business out of misplaced pity.”

“I get it, Iggy,” Noct rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. “I won’t stop Gladio this time, okay? I’m just tired.”

“Of course.” The camper shook as Ignis opened the door to take his leave. “I’ll be preparing dinner. I’ll wake you when I’ve finished.”

Guilt rolled in his gut and he swallowed it down. Iggy was just trying to comfort him in his own way. He rolled over to lay on his back and stared at the partially exposed springs of the bunk, wondering what was going through that MT’s head. 

What did a robot need with a chocobo?

He shifted onto his shoulder and closed his eyes, boots heavy on his feet and the blanket scratchy against his side. He let the mantra run through his head. ‘It’s just a thing. It’s not even a real person. You’ve killed hundreds of them. ‘

Somehow, it only made him feel worse. 

Luckily, Gladiolus didn’t interrupt his futile napping session and poke his chest, asking him to man up and do his duty. He had expected it, waited for it, and when the sun faded from behind the window, sat up and looked grumpily towards the door. 

He could hear the big man’s voice just outside the door. 

Deciding to face the inevitable now rather than later, Noctis picked himself up and ran tired fingers through his hair. His rumpled clothing and, in desperate need of a bath skin, left him feeling more worn than he was. Ignis seemed to think the same. 

“Feeling okay, Noct?” His retainer asked. “It’s only a few more moments until dinner, though I’m sure you can close your eyes until then.”

Ignis was stirring a pot of what looked like boiling water. Immediately, Noctis knew what they were having. They'd had it the last couple of nights since the run in with the MT. Cup Noodles. He didn’t hate them, but Ignis insisted on waiting to procure meats and spices until they reached Lestallum. He claimed their ingredients were delectable enough to wait for and save their gil. He also knew that, while he had been napping, Ignis and Gladio had been talking - probably about him. Nothing else they could have done while boiling water.

“Wow,” he said, sitting down on a rickety chair. “Noodles. My favorite.”

“Careful,” Gladio was grinning, already tearing off a lid and setting it beside the other two as if aiming for a 10 out of 10 presentation score. “You don’t want to challenge me for that title.”  
“Take it.”

“What do you feel like? Shrimp or chicken?”

“How about another nap?”

“You can have chicken.”

Noctis peeked open an eye and stared at his shield, waiting for the inevitable comment to follow. When it didn’t come, he silently watched Gladio fill the cups with scalding water. 

“Why?” Noct finally asked. 

“Why what?”

“Why can I have chicken? Because I am one?”

Gladio didn’t look at the prince. He merely smirked and pressed a palm to his own lid, trapping the heat and waiting eagerly for his dinner. “You said it. Not me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you kill the MT, okay?” He was miffed, more than a little upset and more than a little grumpy. He tucked himself into his arms and buried his chin into his knees. “It’s just…. why did it have to turn its back on us?”

Gladiolus sighed, the humor fading from his face as he placed his noodles on the table. Ignis doused the fire and sat between them. 

“Is that what’s eating at you?” Gladio asked. “That it turned its back on us?”

“It left itself exposed!” Noct grumbled. “It didn’t care that it was going to die, it just wanted to calm the stupid bird down. I couldn’t kill it. I couldn’t let you kill it and I guess that makes me a weak king.”

“We, in no way, believe that nonsense,” Ignis snapped. 

“Yeah? I know you were talking about me-”

“Come on, Noct,” Gladio interrupted. “You think we’re schoolgirls on the playground? Me and specs were talking, yeah, but not about you. We think, maybe, you had some kind of…. well…”

Ignis rolled his eyes. “What Gladio means to say is, that we don’t think any less of you for worrying over the MT. In fact, we were discussing its strange actions and believe that it may be best to find it and try and communicate.”

“Say what?” 

“Who knows,” Gladio shrugged. “Maybe its programming went haywire and it just wants to run free with the chocobos. Based on what we saw, I doubt it came here to hurt them.”

“Communicate, huh?” Noct thought back to the several instances when MTs had, in a sense, spoke to them. It was always the same guttural noises. Static and blood curdling screams that weren’t quite human and not quite animal either. “I don’t think it can talk.”

“There are other forms of communication,” Ignis stood, posture straight and poised. “However, if it shows the least bit of hostility, we put it down without hesitation.”

“Gotcha,” Noct ignored his cup of noodles, and left them to cool under the lights of the chocobo post. The sun had just set, darkness enveloping the forest. 

Gladio stood up as well, but he had tore open his lid and was downing his Cup Noodles with hefty bites. “Yeah, well,” he said between mouthfuls. “Can’t be any harder to talk to than you.”

“You know these noodles are unhealthy,” Noct bit back. 

“Yeah. Your point?”

“Enough bickering,” Ignis clapped his hands. “Let’s station ourselves along the perimeter and keep watch. It won’t be long before it arrives. Wiz made it clear that it shows up thirty or so minutes after the sunset.”

“Good to go.” Gladio finished the last of his cup and wiped his lips with a satisfied grin. “Any of us hear anything - see anything - use the chocobo whistles. Wiz has our birds in their stalls, so they won’t come running into danger.”

“You’re the boss.” Despite his tone, there was no malice. Noct already felt a bit less tired after their talk. “Where am I going?”

“Head south and position yourself on an overhang. There are plenty of rocks, just make sure you’re close enough to see the lights above the post,” Ingis told him. “Gladio will be east of here and I’ll be west. We have no reason to believe the MT will travel along the road, so these are our best routes.”

“Cool. I’ll let you guys know when I find it,” Noct shot them a mocking salute and was heading off to position himself. 

“Wait! You don’t want your noodles?”

Noct waved his hand dismissively. “You have em’, Big Guy.” 

He heard Ignis’ angry shout about overeating and dipped past the shack before he’d get an earful about wasting food. He wasn’t hungry. For the first time in a long time, since the thrill of hunts and tracking down royal arms had faded, he actually felt excited for something.

Excited even more so, now that Gladio wasn’t going to kill the thing. 

Trailing under the crevice of the gray stone, he sought out a small sliver of rock cropping out of the side. He warped to it, his sword embedding itself in a tree branch hanging near the reaching rock. He could see the post, the top of it at least, from here, so he swung his foot out and fell to the cliff face. He sat down, dangling his legs above the dizzying drop. 

And then he waited. 

Not even thirty minutes passed before the low peirce of a chocobo whistle cut through the night. Eagerly, Noct summoned a dagger and tossed it expertly towards the ground. As soon as he had warped and his materializing boots hit the grass, he was running towards the post. The whistle rang out again, closer this time and he directed himself towards the sound. 

He quirked his brows. Oddly enough, he was heading towards the camper. 

The telltale thump of heavy boots slowed him down and he quickly pushed his way through the sparse brush until he found Gladio running by, looking pissed. That couldn’t be good. 

“Damn it! I lost the trail!” 

“Woah, Big Guy,” Noct ducked around him. “You find the MT?”

“I lost it,” Gladio was still looking around, chest puffing out as if expecting a fight. Noct was almost afraid to ask what had him so worked up. “I swore I saw it and then I found a trail…”

“Gladio, what the hell happened?”

“I’ll tell you what happened, Noct!” Gladio was storming back through the brush. “I found a fresh trail and followed it. It lead back to the post.”

“It… it didn’t hurt anyone, did it?”

“Hurt anyone?” Gladio stopped at the edge of the clearing and gestured wildly towards the back of the camper. 

Worried about the expected carnage he would witness, Noct tread around the metal bunker and peered around the corner. He saw nothing out of place. Just some nervous birds in their stalls and a quiet night. 

“Gladio? You sure you’re seeing straight?”

He turned around, choking on a shout. Gladio was right there, having snuck up behind him, and Noct punched him in the gut. “Don’t do that!” 

“Look! I was wrong about that MT. We can’t trust it.”

“What are you going on about?” 

“The noodles, Noct!” Gladio stormed to the table and flipped over the chair he had been sitting on. There had been a box of Cup Noodles under there - ten, unwrapped cups in a variety of flavors - that Gladio had been sitting above. And they were gone. 

“What’s going on?” Ingis stumbled through the brush on the other side of the camper, daggers out and eyes scanning for immediate danger. “I heard the whistle.”

“False alarm, Iggy.” Noct scoffed. 

“False? What is the meaning of this?”

“The MT was here,” Gladio growled. “And it took all of my Cup Noodles.”

“Oh.” 

“I’m not letting that little thief get away.”

“What it want noodles for?” Noct asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache. “It was probably a raccoon.”

“I know it was that MT,” Gladio said, stalking past both of them. “I couldn’t have gone far. Let’s track it down.”

Noct didn’t argue. If the MT was the culprit, he felt pity for the poor thing. But Gladio had promised him that there would be no fighting, so he quickly trailed after the shield with Iggy close behind. 

He’d make him keep that promise.


	3. Camping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accidentally typed double the amount I should have, so I'm posting the second half as chapter four right after I post this.

They heard the MT before they saw it. 

Ignis held up a stern fist, having thrown a furious Gladio behind him and taken the lead. They all stopped and lifted their chins, listening to the bone chilling sounds trailing through the trees. Sharp crunches sounded around them and Noct shivered. It sounds like bones being snapped open and the strange grinding of - was that chewing? - followed. 

“What is that?” He whispered. 

“Bad news,” Gladio guessed. 

They were quickly shushed by Ignis, the man motioning for them to follow quietly and slowly. They trailed carefully towards the noises and their hands twitched as they prepared the summon their weapons. 

They saw the MT through the foliage. Its back was turned to them and it was sitting on the ground, spine curved and legs tucked underneath it. It was shifting strangely, its head lowered and shifting with every crunch that rung out. Noct sucked in a harsh breath, searching vainly for bones and blood, wondering what the hell it could have killed and tore apart. 

All he saw was ripped styrofoam and scattered wrappers. A few empty, discarded cups were lying around it and Noct’s shoulders sagged in relief. And then they tightened again. 

“Is it…” he trailed off. “Is it eating noodles?”

“Robots don’t eat,” Gladio smacked him lightly, obviously pissed that his precious supplies were being wasted. “Its just breaking them apart. Why the hell is it doing that.”

“I’m going to approach it,” Ignis said. “It understood Noct’s concerns for the chocobo, so I’d like to see if it will understand myself. Stay here.”

“No,” Noct grabbed his retainer’s arm. He quickly let go, looking a bit flushed. “I mean, it let me get close, right? Let me talk to it.”

Ignis mulled over the reasoning for a few seconds before nodding his head. “One hostile move, and we’re taking it out.”

“I know.”   
Noct moved past his friends and dipped through the brush, letting the leaves catch along his arms and alerting the MT to his presence. The trooper stiffened and the crunching stopped. It was frozen, kneeling on the ground, waiting for something to happen. Noct took another step forward and awkwardly waved, even if it couldn’t see it. 

“Hi. Again. I’m that guy that you gave the chocobo back too? It’s safe, if you were wondering.”

The MT shifted a little, turning itself further away from Noct. The prince frowned. It was doing it again - leaving itself open to attack. What was it? Suicidal? He swallowed his unease down. Robots couldn’t feel that way. He hoped. 

“Yeah. It’s happy and with its family now. Uh, so, I wanted to talk. No fighting.”

He saw its arm trail upward, the elbow falling to its chest. He heard Gladio and Ingis behind him, both ready to leap at the motion. He shot them a quick glare, mouthing for them to just stay put before turning back to the creature. 

There was a small jerk in its arm, a small groan of metal and a sharp click. And then it turned around and peered up at his with that green mask and those bright, bright eyes. He was shocked. There were no crunched noodles scattered about, not a mess at his feet like he expected. Instead, there was a solid square of noodle left uncooked and resting in his hand. With several very human bites taken out of it. Noct swallowed thickly. 

“Were you eating that?”

It looked down at the noodles and, like a child, nodded shyly. Noct tensed up. He felt out of his element. 

“I didn’t know you could eat.”

It’s head fell further and it regarded him strangely. 

“Uh, can you eat?”

It nodded once, and dropped the noodles, letting it tumble to the grass. its shoulders hunched and it stared at the ground. Noct waited along with it, wanting something to happen that didn’t involve him leading a conversation. He was never very good at it to begin with. 

“Why didn’t you attack us?”

The MT shrugged. It was so human and so guilty looking that Noct wasn’t sure this thing was a robot at all. 

“I mean, I don’t want you to attack us. It was good that you didn’t.”

Its fingers began to drum along its knee and its arm shifted uncomfortably, as if itching to do something. Noct took a brave step forward, worried that Gladios and Ignis may see it as a threat. He knelt down and looked at the carnage of the Cup Noodles. 

“Were you hungry? Is that why you took our food?”

Another nod. Its glowing eyes refused to look up at him. It was surreal, seeing this soldier - this bloodlusting killing machine - act so downtrodden and tired. Noct felt that same spark of need he felt when it was feeding the chocobo. That need that urged him to figure out just what was going through this magitek soldier’s head. 

“You… are you fully, you know, a robot?”

A nod follows slowly and Noct suddenly can’t swallow that persistent lump in his throat. He isn’t sure if he wants to reach or not because he realizes that the soft click he heard - that creak of metal - was the mask closing shut. There was a face under there. There was something fleshy under there and he cringed, wishing he could have thought of a better word. 

“Okay. Um, wow, didn’t think I’d learn that. Would you, like something better than those noodles? They aren’t even cooked.”

That head snapped up, those lips looking as if they might be hiding a small breath of curious awe. Noct forced himself to nod. 

“Yeah, my pal Iggy,” Noct jerked his head back, hoping he didn’t come off too brash, “he’s like, a genius when it comes to food. You wanna come back to camp with us?”

“Noct,” Ignis called out to him, a glint in his voice. “A word?”

Noct offers a tight-lipped smile to the MT and slowly gets up, backing away and keeping his eyes on the metal armor. 

“What’s wrong? It’s not attacking, it’s fine,” Noct snaps lowly. 

“We can’t take it back to the outpost. There’s a haven not to far from here. Perhaps it’d be best to go there.” Ignis sounded reluctant, but as long as Noct got his way, he couldn’t help the small smirk. 

“Can we bring a chocobo?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well fine, can you at least cook something besides noodles? It’s hungry.”

“I noticed. And frankly, I’m not certain what’s under that armor. We have no idea what it could be, Noct.”

“So let’s find out,” Gladio interrupted. Iggy and Noct looked up, surprised to find a faint smile on his face. 

“Aren’t you pissed about your noodles?”

“How can I reject anyone’s need for noodles?” He asked seriously. “If I had known the MT was such a fan, I’d have cooked it some myself.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Noct scoffed. 

“Iggy,” Gladio said, “Go back to the caravan and bring only the essentials. Me and Noct will take the tin can to the haven.”

“If I must. I’d advise both of you to watch your backs however. I’ve no idea why we’re doing this, to be frank.”

Noct smiled at him, trying to convey appreciation for putting up with him. It came off awkward and forced, but Ignis shook his head nonetheless. “I’ll be at the haven in no less than an hour. Do not take your eyes off of it.”

When Iggy left, Noct made Gladio stay back in the brush, asking him to follow them to the haven. The MT, to an extent, trusted him, and he refused to let the broadsword brandishing hothead mess that up. 

“Alright, but one move-”

“And you’ll kill it, I get it,” Noct hissed. 

He turned back to the MT, still sitting against the tree. It’s legs had shifted and it had splayed them out before it. Its fingers trailed over the scraps of loose noodles and it crushed a few of them like blades of grass. It looked up when Noctis stepped over it. The prince, despite his better judgment, held out a hand. 

“Here, let’s go to the camp. You can have some real food.”

The MT hesitantly reached out but before it could grip the offered hand, shuffled backwards and picked itself up. Noct frowned and stepped out of its way, waiting until it was on its feet before gesturing for it to walk alongside him. Sure, he wanted to help, but he didn’t really want it right behind his exposed back. 

“So, I know you can’t talk. Do you know how to write?” 

The MT nodded minutely and Noct felt a flicker of excitement. Finally, he could get some actual answers out of this thing. “Okay, good. We’ll talk - write - after we set up camp.”

It nodded again, manually it seemed, and they lapsed into silence. It was a relief to see the slowly moving wisps of the haven not far from here. They could just above the canopy and disappeared for several minutes as they trailed past rock and chunks of overturned stone. When they reached the curling, pulsing blue veins of camp, Noct clambered up the slope. Their tent and chairs were still set up from the last time they had visited. 

He suddenly felt tired. 

The MT climbed up behind him and stoically stood off to the side as Gladio trampled up with them. The MT stepped back a bit, obviously uncomfortable with the big man’s presence. Gladio paused, looking the armor up and down with a knowing smirk. 

“Next time you want some of my noodles, just ask.”

Noct almost wanted to laugh at the quick, almost desperate nod the MT offered. 

“Don’t worry about him,” Noct waved his shield off as they settled into their seats. There were only three of them, but he was sure Iggy wouldn’t mind. He promised to cook after all. “Here, you can sit by me.”

The MT shifted again and warily approached. It was still stiff and robotic, but now that Noct had the last few encounters to notice little, human things about it, he could see the discomfort and unease in its movements. 

“We don’t bite,” he assured. 

It nodded once and sat down. The chair groaned under its weight and the cheap material creaked. Immediately, the MT stood up. 

“It’s not gonna break. If it can handle Gladdy over here, it can handle you.”

Gladio snorted. “Real funny. If the chair breaks, your going on a solo hunt to replace it.”

The MT just stood there unmoving, and Noct wasn’t sure what else to say. He was overjoyed when Ignis chose that moment to appear through the brush and along the trail, his arms full of their bags and a few choice camping supplies they had left behind. He climbed the steep slope and set everything down at his feet. 

“I see you’re all settled,” Ignis clapped and gestured to the wares at his feet. “Now Noct, if you’d be so kind as to help?”

The prince looked at the MT with a roll of his eyes and sat up, popping his back as he helped prep their very late dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think ~


	4. Camping (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The MT's perspective and then some more camping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did not edit, so sorry if there are many mistakes.

The MT had been scared. He was still a little scared, if he was honest with himself. He hadn’t meant to wander off during battle - but he had saw a bright, wonderful shade of yellow and he couldn’t help himself. He had never seen anything as charming as those - what these three called them - chocobos trotting away from the fight. 

So he just… walked off, and when they darted away from him, he followed. He could hear the sharp clatter of metal and metal shrieking together, but he didn’t care at that point. He saw how easily those three hunters had taken out the axemen. As soon as they caught up to him, he would be killed. He just wanted to see one of those big yellow things up close. 

The other two skittered away, but when he caught up to the last one, it had backed itself into a clearing and couldn’t escape. Its intelligent eyes darted up and down his armor and looked into his glowing eyes. He tried to calm it down. He accidentally spoke and it chirped in fright at the guttural noises that escaped him. 

But he couldn’t take off his mask. That wasn’t allowed. It was so ingrained in him, he didn’t even consider that he’d be dead in a few moments. 

So he pulled his rifle to the side and kicked it away. It didn’t ease the large creatures panic. He frowned under his mask, and looked down at himself. Yeah, he scared himself sometimes. His brethren scared him - yet they weren’t like him. They could hide their emotions so easily. They could hide the slight tremor in their arms when they lifted a weapon to kill. They could act like objects in the face of their commander and march to death without fear. 

He didn’t want to be like that. 

But he had to. 

But this creature, that looked so much like the sunshine he couldn’t touch, pulled him away from the urge to follow commands. He had hardly ever got a chance to see beyond stale, gray walls and cold laboratories. 

It had been overwhelming when the creature made a soft cooing noise and walked up beside him. He had made to walk away, go back to the fight, but it gently nudged him as if testing the waters. He felt an unfamiliar blossoming of warmth grow in his chest. It almost made his knees buckle. 

His fingers fell over his feathers and he wanted to armor off. He wanted to feel if it was as soft as it looked. And then those three had come. 

But they didn’t kill him. At least, the raven haired one didn’t want to. He talked to him - spoke to him like a human, and it was hard to look at those dark eyes and listen. 

So he grabbed the chocobo and hugged it. He seeked warmth behind the cold armor and tried to hide himself for the world, waiting for that killing blow to take him out. But the raven haired one just asked him to leave. 

He didn’t want to leave. His squadron was gone. The ship was gone. He already felt the pull of his programming tugging him back home. Back to an imperial base - back to following orders and being a soldier on death row. He’d probably be shot if they found out he left the battle. 

Defective. 

Those in white had called him that several times. 

It was only when the raven haired one told him that the chocobo needed to go somewhere safe that he let go. It such a beautiful creature. He didn’t want to snuff out its life. He felt that pull again, this time towards the three standing around him. He had to kill them. He had to snuff out their lives. 

Instead, he forced himself still as they walked away. 

A day passed, and he got hungry. He never been alone and the cold, silence was suffocating. He had saw a bright light, a lot of them, that night, and he stumbled upon what he assumed had to be the afterlife. 

There were chocobos everywhere, all lined up in stables and little plump ones running around the ground. He left when they flapped their wings and called out fretfully. They saw his eyes from the darkness and he felt shame for terrifying them. 

But he kept coming back. He kept coming back because he wanted to see that splash of color and because his stomach grew painful. He got tablets and vitamins at the labs. They never filled his stomach, but sometimes he got bread and those days were the best. But he couldn’t get to the food he knew this place had. He kept scaring the chocobos and he felt horrible hearing their panicked squawks. 

And then the three arrived, and he saw them come in that black car from the forest along the road. He didn’t travel back to the chocobo place until the sun began to set. He waited until he was sure they were sleeping to see if he could find that raven haired one again. But then he found an empty table and chairs and read ‘noodles’ on the side of several boxes and hunger got the best of him. 

He wasn’t suppose to open his mask, but he did. He felt the pull again, ordering him not to, but the temptation of the white blocks of ramn was overwhelming and he unlocked the mask. It creaked open and he ate, accidentally tearing biting into the clear wrapper several times as he filled his stomach. So much better than bread day. 

And now he was here - sitting on a chair he was sure would crack under the weight of his armor as the three of them bumbled around him. He caught their names, though there were a strange use of variation between them. Gladiolus, Gladiolus, Gladdy. Ignis, Iggy. Specs. Noctis. Noct. 

He liked Noct the best. But Ignis was making something over a fire and his aching stomach thought that maybe he’d win out if he was given some of… whatever that was. 

But while it cooked, he was caught back in the limelight and Noctis was in front of him with a pen and paper. The pen felt weird in his glove and he set the paper awkwardly in his lap. He knew how to write. He was taught as a child, but that had been a long time ago. 

“Let’s start with something simple,” Ignis began. He was standing beside Noctis, towering over them with a stern look on his face. Gladios was still in his chair, leaning forward and the MT felt overwhelmed. 

‘What’s your name?”

The MT just shook his head. 

“Uh, okay - then how about…”

“Are you human?” Ignis asked. Noct shot him a glare, but the MT began to write. 

He laced the pen’s tip across the pad and grimaced at how shaky his words were. But Noct made it out easily. 

“No…”

“What are you then?” Gladio huffed. 

The MT tried again, and wrote the answer. He felt foolish pointing out the obvious. 

“An MT,” Noct said. “Yeah, we know that. But what are you? Like, what’s under that mask.”

He brought his hand up to trail along the mold, heart race picking up at the rule. Don’t open your mask. Not outside. Not during battle. Not in front of the enemy. He should be nothing but smoke right now, but instead he was here talking to those he should have been killing. 

He tapped the pen to the paper and wrote, ‘I don’t know.’

Noctis frowned and so did the other two. His grip tightened on the pen. 

“Okay. Where were you born? Who are your parents?”

He jotted down quickly. ‘In a lab. No parents.’

He ignored the uneasy glances and focused on breathing.

“So, not human. You were created, huh?”

“Could you show us your face, perhaps?” Ignis asked. 

The MT shook his head. No. He couldn’t. Could he? He was breaking so many rules right now. He was broken. He was dead. He was going to be dead, as soon as his actions had been found out. 

“Then how are you going to eat?” 

He looked up to Noctis, his eyes casting a faint red glow over his face. Noct was smiling at him, a small strained tug of his lips that somehow looked genuine. The MT looked at Ingis and the man strolled towards the campfire where the amazing smell was coming from. He opened the lid and his stomach gave a painful growl. 

The MT desperately scribbled on the pad. 

‘I can’t take off the mask. I’m not allowed.’

It was hasty and hardly readable, but Gladio bent over him to get a good look and read it out slowly. 

“And why not?” he asked. 

The MT pointed to the word ‘allowed’ as if it would clear everything up. 

“Says who? You’re not exactly in an army anymore,” Noctis pointed out. “You’re with us.”

The MT repeated the last few words in wonder, the sounds passing through his lips before he could stop them. He slapped a palm across his fake mouth when he guttural static dragged out instead. 

They all looked at him. Noct and Gladiolus and Ignis. 

“Yeah,” Noct wiped the surprise off his face, as if knew exactly what the MT was trying to say. “You’re with us.”

Ignis resumed pouring the bowls of soup, the green broth translucent and pretty above the firelight before trailing back to their little circle. The MT wasn’t much in the mood for answering more questions and the others didn’t push him. Instead, Noct took the pen and paper in place of a hot bowl and a plastic spoon. 

They all had bowls, but all their attention was focused on him. 

“Take off the mask and eat. We aren’t going to do anything.” Noct urged him forward and, despite the pull in his chest and the worry gnawing his flesh, he reached out with timid fingers and felt for the small dip in the metal that would unlatch. 

It cracked open just slightly, and the cool air was breathing over his flushed cheeks. He opened it a little further, pushing it to the side and the smell of the curry was wonderful and amazing and… and the three were staring at him with looks of horror. 

Why horror? 

He began to shake, calming himself down now that he was out of his shell. He didn’t know what he looked like, but based on other MTs, he was aware of how very red his eyes would be. It must have startling. Their eyes were all nice shades of normal. 

“You’re human.” Noct was the first to speak and the MT glanced at him in surprise. His horror melted into anger and the MT shrunk back a little. “You’re human. Those Nif bastards! You’re human!” 

“Noct, calm down,” Ignis ordered. 

“I’m with the prince on this one,” Gladio snapped. He stood up, looming over the MT with a shadow over his face. “You’re human, kid. How much of the rest of you is under all of that?”

The MT cleared his throat. He hadn’t talked in awhile, and his voice came out shaky and rough. “I… I’m not human…”

“So it speaks,” Gladio crowed. 

“Gladio, shut up!” Noct snapped. “This isn’t a joke.”

“You think I’m joking? You think I think this is funny! Look at him!” A huge hand waved itself over the MT and he flinched, expecting white hot pain to fall against his cheek. Some curry split over his lap. 

“Yeah, look at him! That’s what you wanted to kill!”

“I didn’t know this was under there! They disappear when we kill them! There’s no blood! How was I supposed to know!” 

“Maybe if you didn’t blindly kill everything like a hothead!” 

“Oh, look who’s talking, The King of Brash Decisions himself!” 

“Enough!” 

All heads turned towards Ignis, silent fury composing his features as he straightened his jacket with stiff fingers. “Noctis. You were right. We should not have taken to killing so quickly,” his voice was cold and looming with threat. “But do not call Gladiolus or I out on this. This is not about us right now.”

The MT was shaking. It’s red eyes stared off at the ground, the bowl in its hand not quite full anymore. They all took in the pale skin, lacking sunlight and the mess of freckles across its cheeks. The blonde hair plastered along the side of its face and the bloody eyes that were looking anywhere but at the three of them. 

He couldn’t have been any older than seventeen. 

“We’re going to help you,” Noct forced the anger from his voice. He hated the Nifs. He hated them and he couldn’t wrap his head around how people, someone as young as him, could be apart of an army that wasn’t considered human. How he could think he wasn’t human. 

The MT looked up at the promise and blinked. 

“You’re apart of us, okay?”

The MT stared down at his curry for several seconds before shaking his head, feeling that familiar tug to kill and stab run through him. “You don’t know me.” 

“And you don’t know me,” Noct declared. “But I’m the King of Lucis, and if you think a King goes back on his word, you’re dead wrong. You’re with us now, and Niflheim better watch its back. You’re human. You’re human and you’re not apart of them anymore.”

The MT kept his gaze locked on his soup despite the fluttering in his stomach. Going against Niflheim. His pull warned his against it, almost painfully so. But his pull wanted him to do lots of things he didn’t like. 

So he ignored it and nodded a few times. It felt… right. 

“Okay. I’ll trust you.”


	5. Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than the others, but I won't be able to post for a few days so I wanted to leave you guys with something. Short and sweet, I hope.

Finding a suitable position to sleep when a mound of literal armor is taking up half the space in the tent was hard. Noct huffed as he wiggled around for the hundredth time. He was usually the one to fall asleep under any circumstances, but with the tent flap open, the cold wind trailing in and Ignis waiting right outside as a watch, he couldn’t shut his eyes. 

The MT had refused to take off its armor - er, he refused to take off his armor. Now that they knew it was some kid settled under there, they all felt a little bad having referred to it as a thing. He could tell that Gladio was at a bit of a war with himself. They all were. 

Were all MTs just human experiments?

The MT had panicked when Ingis asked him if he wanted a change of clothing, and Noct knew why. If it weren’t for the dead give away of his red eyes, it was the way the MTs would disintegrate when their armor was cut open and exposed to sunlight. 

“It’s blood,” The MT explained almost sheepishly. He didn’t look them in the eye. His cheeks flushed under the firelight as he tried to find the right words. “In the labs, it’s blood. They give us I.Vs every once in awhile.”

“Blood?” Ignis repeated warily. “What kind of blood?”

“Demon.”

Gladio’s muscles flexed, the beginning motions of summoning a weapon. But neither Ignis nor Noctis followed his lead. They shot him down with cold looks. 

“And this is against your will?” Ignis asked. 

“I…” The MT trailed off, face scrunching up as if trying to recall something. He eventually shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just my life.”

He didn’t talk much after that. Noctis and the others still had a lot to sort through and think over, but the reality wasn’t black and white anymore. It was a whole mess of grays that left his head aching and his guilt rising. So the MT was settled down in the tent with him and Gladiolus, armor and all and it couldn’t have been comfortable. 

But if the sun rose and he wasn’t wearing it, he’s fade away just like the rest of them. 

It was strange, hearing the soft puffs of breath come out from underneath the mask. The MT was facing away from him and though his armor remained stiff, light snores shifted with every shift of the body inside. 

Noctis closed his eyes to try his own hand at sleeping. He dozed off for several minutes at a time. He’d jerk himself awake each time he saw that glinting metal and curse himself before closing his eyes again. Rinse and repeat. Until he was startled away by the lack of metal beside him. 

Careful not to wake Gladio, the prince forced himself up and searched through the empty tent, heart suddenly racing. He crawled out the tent flap, and caught sight of Iggy sitting on one of the chairs. He had a small fire going and his glasses glinted white as he stared out over the rock outcropping. He heard Noct’s footsteps and smiled faintly at his charge. 

“No need to worry,” Iggy said quietly, gesturing towards the edge of the haven. “He just wanted a bit of fresh air.”

Noct say the MT sitting away from the fire, his back turned and his legs hanging off the ledge. His helmet was settled next to him and the bright blonde hair that had been hidden was sticking up in tuffs. 

“He looks relaxed.”

“Indeed,” Iggy nodded. “It’s safe to say your speech did the trick.”

Noctis huffed and crossed his arms. “Wasn’t a speech - I was just…”

“Doing the right thing. I believe I owe you an apology. Had we acted as brashly as we wanted, the magitek trooper would be dead and we’d be none the wiser to their origins.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t be right all the time.”

Ignis smiled and poked at the fire. 

The prince walked towards the MT and paused a few steps away, clearing his throat. The trooper stiffened and looked up at him, and Noctis was once more struck by how young he looked. Nearly as old as himself. He cleared his throat again and closed the distance, settling himself next to the other and looking up at the stars. 

“Can I ask you something?” Noct said. 

The MT shrugged. It was becoming something of a bad habit, but Noctis took it as a yes. If not a reluctant one. 

“That chocobo that you followed, you kept trying to calm it down. Why didn’t you fight back?”

The MT shrugged again so Noct leaned forward and looked at his face. His red eyes were slightly glowing under the low light and he staring down at his boots. When he caught Noct looked, he became flustered. 

“I was going to die on that field,” he admitted quietly. “I saw how deadly you were. I just wanted to look at something beautiful before I was gone. You don’t get to see much, growing up in a lab.”

“So that’s it? You were going to let yourself get killed so you could pet a chocobo?” A flare of anger rose up in him, but the MT seemed to think it was directed at him. He shied away and shook his head. 

“I don’t know.”

“You say that a lot.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Sorry.”

The MT looked up at him with stricken panic, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. “Ah, sorry.” He winced and lifted a gloved hand to run across his face. “I don’t get to talk to others that much. A lot of the other troopers are… too far gone.”

Noct nodded, unsure if he wanted to fully understand that statement. So instead he asked, “You said you didn’t have a name. You want one?”

The MT fully face him this time and his nose crinkled again. “I use to have one, actually.”

“Really?”

“I think I did. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s real and not… But there was a woman when I was younger. I don’t remember her face, but she always talked to me like you do.”

“Talk how?”

“Like a person.” Noctis felt his stomach drop he forced his face to remain neutral. “She told me that things would be okay and that I had to stay strong… she disappeared. But she called me Prompto. At least, I think that’s what it was.”

“Prompto.” Noctis repeated the name and he grinned when the MT looked at him hesitantly. “Yeah. I like that. Prompto fits you.”

Prompto's face lit up and then he was grinning right back. It wasn’t like Gladio’s self-assured smirk or Iggy’s soft subtle smiles. It was a big, toothy grin that crinkled his eyes and gave him dimples. 

“Prompto,” the trooper mulled it over his tongue again, and that grin grew wider. “Yeah. Yeah, I like it to.”


	6. Road Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not edited so sorry for any mistakes. I'm obviously not following the cannon plot, but I seriously don't want to follow the main story line all that much (I don't want to even think about everything that happens after Altissia :( thanks, but no) - so don't expect too many familiar plot points. I'm kinda driving this thing off the beaten path. 
> 
> Also, the story is gonna pick up speed after this, so expect angst soon (hopefully in the next few chapters).

Prompto, as he was newly called, didn’t sleep for the rest of that night. Ignis had switched out with Gladio and the MT and the Shield had spent the remained of the night sitting quietly - Prompto looking up at the moon and Gladio watching his back. 

Noct had, for once in his life, gotten up early. He hadn’t meant to - and yes, sleep was still pulling at his eyes and his limbs - but he found himself clambering out of the empty tent with an new sun climbing the horizon. He wasn’t surprised to smell the beginnings of breakfast and the sharp aroma of Ebony. Nor was he surprised, if not a little disappointed, to find that Prompto’s mask was once more covering his face. 

It made his gut coil at the thought of what the sun could do to him. What was pumping through his veins. 

“Good morning, Noct,” Iggy had called to him, already platting a simple serving of rice and potatoes they had dug not a few days ago. “Feeling refreshed?”

Gladio made himself his own plate and was settling himself down in his chair, a bit sweaty from his morning workout. Prompto was quietly sitting at the edge of the haven, still and unmoving but watching all the same. 

“What about Prompto? He can’t eat like that.”

“Prompto?” Gladio raised a brow. 

“Yeah,” Noct crossed his arms and strolled over to the MT. “We talked last night. His name is Prompto.”

“Well, I’d like to say that it’s very nice to meet you, Prompto,” Iggy took it in stride and made his own plate. He smiled lightly at the defensive frown crossing his charge’s face. “Don’t worry, Noct. I had him eat before the sun came up.”

Gadio laughed. “Come on, your highness. We had to deal with your whiny ass growing up. We can take care of the MT. He actually eats his vegetables.”

Noct scowled and looked away, jumping a bit when cold metal touched his hand. Prompto was staring at him and made a tiny motion with his head towards the other two. “Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna eat,” Noct sighed. “I’ll save my potatoes for you.”

“You most certainly will not.” Ignis scolded, adding a few extra. “Eat and we’ll begin to pack our things.”

Noct rolled his eyes, walking forward to take his plate. He stared down at his food for a few seconds and then his empty seat before heading back to Prompto and sitting next to him on the hard ground. Neither Gladio or Ignis said anything, but the MT stiffened beside him. Noct ignored it and stuffed his face with the rice. 

“Where are we headin’ anyway?”

“No talking with your mouth full, please,” Iggy chided. “As for your question, we thought it best to find a haven in Hammerhead for the time being. At least until we figure out what our next steps are.”

“Steps being?”

“We’re at war with Niflheim,” Gladio leaned forward. “What do you think? We just discovered their experimenting on humans and we know they’ve used demons as weapons in the past. We need to figure out how the hell to stop them from making more MTs.”

Noct glanced at Prompto but couldn’t read any emotion. He was looking at Gladio though, so he figured he was holding onto every word. The prince nodded. 

“You’ll like Hammerhead, Prompto,” Noct said casually. “It’s a little hot, but we have friends there. They’ll help us out.”

Prompt finally moved. He lifted his hand and, with a flick of his wrist, made a writing motion. Ignis curtly set aside his plate and picked up the discard pen and notepad left lying on the side table. It still had the MT’s scribblings on it from the other night. 

“Here you are,” Iggy handed them over and knelt down beside the other two. Gladio sat where he was, though he did lean forward with a curious look. “Any thoughts?”

Prompto folded his knees, angling them to the side as a makeshift table and setting the pad on top. He began to write slowly and deliberately, taking his time to write something more than short and curt answers. When he was done, he passed it over to Noct. The prince read it aloud, pausing in between sentences to decode a bit of the more shaky lettering. 

“I don’t know enough about my own creation to help. I… I think it’s best to put me down. Niflheim will discover my whereabouts and kill me anyway. You shouldn’t put yourselves at greater risk. You shouldn’t travel with a weapon.”

Noct finished the note and glanced at Prompto with an unreadable expression. “You’re not a weapon.” He said. “You’re a person.”

Prompto reached for the pad again and this time jotted something short. He handed it back to the prince who read it allowed with a hard tone. 

“You’re eyes aren’t red.”

Ignis, Gladio and Noct all exchanged sour glances, as if gauging their eye colors. It was Gladio who spoke up, an air of indifference coating his words. 

“Eh, so what? You haven’t tried to maim any of us yet. That had to count for something.”

Noct scoffed, recalling the first time they had met Prompto. But he refrained from saying anything more than, “He’s right, you know. Besides, Niflheim’s been trying to kill us from day one. We’re all in the same boat.”

“Indeed,” Ignis said. “And yet we’re still here.”

If Prompto had any doubts, he seemed to shoulder them away with a low nod, mulling over their words with a survey of the ground. He nodded again, this time a bit more sure. 

“Alright,” Noct clapped him on the back, ignoring the sharp sting of metal. “Let’s go.”

 

They trampled through the underbrush on their way past the Wiz Chocobo Post, making sure to stray far away from the actual stables. They didn’t want Wiz to have a heart attack, especially after Iggy had informed him that the problem had been taken care of last night. The Regalia had been parked near the side of the road, polished and regal under the late morning sun. 

Prompto had hesitated before being corralled into the back seat. He sat awkwardly and stiff, palms digging into the leather of the cushions like he was on death row. Gladio filed into next to him and Noct turned to face him from the front passenger seat. He threw his arms over the chair. 

“You okay, Prompto?”

The MT nodded. Noct frowned motioning to the seat belt. 

“You have to buckle yourself in.”

There was a blank stare. 

“You ever ride in a car before?”

A shake of his head and Noct looked to Gladio for help. The Shield reached across the MT and grabbed the strap, pinning it across Prompto’s chest. 

There was the high pitch of static and the cry of churning metal. Gladio was pushed to the side by strong metal arms and the seatbelt snapped back into place with a sharp click. Everyone froze, staring wide-eyed at the MT that backed itself against the door and held a hand over its chest. They could hear the static of breathy gasps seep through his helmet. 

“It’s quite alright,” Ignis spoke up as if Prompto didn’t just have a small freakout. “I’ll drive extra careful then, no need for seatbelts.”

There was a beat of silence and Prompto settled down, red eyes staring off out the window. His hand slipped from his chest and he placed it between his knees, pinning the wrist as if he didn’t trust himself. And then the engine started and they drove off. 

It was like a light had been switched on and the MT straightened up and swiveled his head towards the blue stretch of the sky and the reaching canopy that trailed over the road. Gladio tapped his shoulder the few times a car was about to pass, and Prompto leaned forward to hide himself. But the vehicles were few and far in between, so Gladio settled down to read while Noct closed his eyes and Ignis kept his eyes forward. 

When they passed through a long winding tunnel, the orange lights stripped and passing over them rapidly, Prompto angled his head back to watch them speed by. A small breath of static flowed past his mouth and he jerked upright again, head spinning, expecting everyone to look at him. When no one even acknowledged the hideous noise, he leaned against the window and enjoyed the lights. 

When the tunnel ran out, the car drifted out into the open expanse of dry, barren land. Light, brown rocks and a stretch of bumpy land fell out before them and huge arcing pillars of stone pierced the horizon. Far, far away, Prompto caught sight of a mountain that touched the sky and perked up at the unfamiliar terrain. It all flashed by so quickly that he leaned out the window to get a better look, his armor creaking with the motions. 

“Like what you see?” Gladio asked, peeking out from behind his book. 

Prompto whipped around quickly, as if caught doing something he wasn’t suppose to. Noticing the smile he was offered, he nodded and pointed out towards the large mountain so far away. Gladio set his book down, folding the ear of the worn page as he did so. 

“That’s Longwythe Peak over there. Last time we were over there, it was for a hunt. Some anaklabans were destroying the habitat,” he laughed at the memory. “Noct was flung so high up by one of those things, he landed right in the branches of a tree.”

“Yeah, and you ate shit when one clipped you in the face,” Noct mumbled from up front. “Remember that?”

Gladio rolled his eyes, interrupted by Iggy who took another sip of his Ebony. “If I recall correctly, none of us did very well during that particular hunt. We wasted too many potions.”

The three of them began to bicker about what had happened and what didn’t. Prompto’s gaze strayed from his sightseeing to watch the familiar banter strung between the three of them with a pinch in his chest. The tug that ordered him to kill had faded a bit, but it was still there. Yet it was overshadowed by a sort of fondness he had never experienced. Well, maybe once, with that woman that he was sure he must have imagined so long ago. Either way, he liked listening to the unruly conversation, small quips and jokes running through his head that - if he could - would have intervened with here and there. 

He settled for simply listening as they traveled to Hammerhead, a bit more excited to meet more of their friends. Maybe they wouldn’t mind he was an MT. It was wishful thinking he held onto as they drew further through the arid terrain.


	7. Hammerhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted Iggy to have a bit of the spotlight this time. He's too good to everyone.

Iggy had driven slow and took a longer route to their destination. 

Prompto became a bit more lively as he pointed out strange rock formations and the others shared stories about their mishaps trekking through the landscape, whether it was helping hurt hunters, taking on hunts or searching for rocks, they seemed to have a tale for every inch of the land. 

There was another reason for slight delay, one that Gladio, Noct and Ignis had decided on before they left. Cindy and her grandfather. They had no idea how the two would react to harboring an MT. Prompto had proved to be pretty harmless, and they need a place to lie low and figure out what exactly they were doing. Cid had a certain hatred for the Niffs and they weren’t sure whether or not Cindy would want a magitek soldier wandering around her garage. Of course, she was overly friendly - so they decided the best course of action would be to arrive by nightfall when Prompto could remove his helmet. 

And they arrived just as the sun was beginning to dip. 

Ignis pulled over at the edge of Hammerhead, where the lights just barely reached them. Sometime during the ride, Prompto had fallen asleep - at least they think he did - and was slumping against the door. It didn’t look comfortable, but they let him be as Iggy unbuckled himself and turned to his companions. 

“How would we like to go about this?” he asked. 

“You stay here with the tin can while me and Noct go see if our hosts are awake,” Gladio said. “We should probably let them know about what’s going on before we introduce our… new addition.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Noct grumbled. He had woken up not too long ago and wasn’t in the best mood. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. They like us.”

“It’s not whether they like us, Noct,” Iggy said. “It’s whether they trust a magitek trooper near their home - their haven. Speak with Cid first and then return once you know if we’d be welcome.”

“On it,” Noct practically rolled out of his seat, opening the door and stumbling to his feet with a yawn. Gladio followed close behind, unbothered by the cold that made the prince rub at his arms. 

“Come on, your highness,” Gladio grabbed his collar and dragged him towards the garage. “Let’s see what we can do.”

Iggy watched them go, shifting in his seat and looking down at his empty can of Ebony with a slight frown. He felt tired and the urge to sleep was tugging his mood down as much as Noct’s. He was just better at hiding it. 

“How are you feeling, Prompto?” He asked. 

The MT slightly jumped. He had been well aware the soldier was awake. The small shift in his limbs, as subtle as they were, grew the closer they edged towards Hammerhead. 

“You have no need to be nervous. I’m sure we’ll be welcome here,” Ignis quipped. “And if not, well, there’s a lovely haven not to far from here.”

The MT sat up a bit straighter and gestured to Ignis’ recipe book seated in between the seats. Iggy flipped it open and pooled to the last few pages. In a few moments, they wouldn’t need it and the sun would be gone, but the soldier seemed jumpy. So he handed the pad and pencil over. 

When he got it back, he squinted against the low light and frowned. 

‘Why are you all so nice?’

Iggy’s shoulders sagged at the simple question, but he set the notebook aside. It was a wonder the MT was as humane as he was. He could only imagine what the boy went through during his time with the Niffs. And just how dehumanized he had been. So he answered honestly. 

“I’ll admit, I did not see it wise harbor you at first,” Iggy began slowly. “We all lost loved ones to Niflheim and its troops. But we cannot allow ourselves to be so narrow minded and see one side of the picture. Lucis and Accordo may be victims to the empire, but so are its own citizens. You are no mere weapon, Prompto. You never were. I’m very determined to prove that to you, should you allow me to.”

Static pulled at his ears and Ignis watched Prompto fall still, as he usually did when confronted with something that tried to convince him of his own humanity. The sun faded and the sky lost its last vestiges of purple. Cautiously, Ignis reached out and searched for that little lever that would open the helmet. Prompt reached up and gripped his wrist gently, pulling away to pull at it himself. This time, he took off the whole helmet. 

Blonde hair, slightly sweaty and askew, fell over Prompto’s temples like chocobo feathers. His lips were tugged into a fond smile and his red eyes were wet with unshed tears. 

“Thank you, Ignis.” His voice was scratchy and tired, but a bloom of happiness brightened his face. “I’ll make sure you never regret letting me tag along.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Iggy’s eyes fell past Prompto and, as soon as the words left his mouth, grew wide. The retainer could only watch as the glint of a shotgun pulled through the dark and the wrinkled, determined face of Cid hid behind it. 

Prompto turned around, his smile fading to a look of horror. His eyes grew wide and cast a luminescent glow across the barrell. He stared at it in disbelief and though he froze, his fingers curled hard enough into the leather to tear it. 

“Cid. Put that away, right now,” Ignis’ voice turned cold and he slowly pulled open his door to step out. Cid thrust the barrel closer to Prompto’s face. 

“Don’t you dare move. Ya’ll come into my home and bring some damn Niff bleeding demon blood along with ya?! What are ya? Stupid?”

“He is no longer with the empire,” Ignis said between his teeth. “He’s a victim willing to help us. He’s no threat to you.”

“Bullshit,” His finger twitched, the trigger just about pulled before a flash of blue materialized beside him and the shotgun clattered to the ground. The gun went off and the side of the Regalia was scraped with a blast of bullets. 

Ignis fell backwards, out onto the road and Prompto ducked down. Noctis was standing over Cid, kicking the shotgun away and leveling the man with a glower. 

“If you didn’t want him here, you could have told us to leave,” he said. He was strangely calm, but a rigidness overtook his body. 

“You don’t bring a magitek trooper here!” Cid shouted wiping at his mouth and picking himself up. He stood his ground and nearly bumped chests with the prince. The two were locked in a staring contest, slight growls weaving across their lips. “You don’t endanger anyone here!”

“Then we’ll leave.”

Gladio was running up behind them, followed closely behind by Cindy. The mechanic was disheveled, clad in a loose t-shirt and pajama bottoms. She skidded to a halt behind Gladio when Prompto looked her way and paled slightly. 

“That’s… that’s the MT?” She asked in a small voice. 

“And it ain’t stayin’ here,” Cid snapped. “Leave now. Next time you show your faces, it better be gone.”

“He’s not an ‘it’. His name is Prompto,” Noct said. “I know for a fact that he wouldn’t hurt any one of you. But if your that willing to forgo our word, then we’ll just go. Don’t expect us back here.”

Prompto was still staring at Cindy. He could see the fear morph across her face and felt heat warm up his own cheeks. Shame washed through him heavier than he ever felt. These were Noct’s allies. They were his friends - the people they had praised all the way down here - and he nearly got his head blown to bits by them. He let out a breath he had been holding in, numb to the yelling voices of Noct and Cid. 

The tug had been so strong when that shotgun had been pointed at his face. It told him to kill - to maim the man and break his bones. A wash of bloodlust had hit him and he froze, struggling to keep it at bay. And then Noct had shown up and took the danger away. The wrong one. 

He didn’t belong here. Cid had been right to brandish his weapon. He should have pulled the trigger. 

“I’m sorry,” Prompto’s voice was so small, no one heard it. He said it again, just a little louder. “I’m sorry.”

Iggy was in front of him, standing in front of the damaged door to block him from the ensuing argument. He knelt down and shook his head. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. We’re leaving.”

“No. No he was right,” Prompto felt himself shake in his armor. He shook the way he always did while stuck in those labs. Shook when he should have been brave, when they pumped his veins with that burning, black heat and talked about him like he wasn’t there - like an object. “I’m dangerous. You should have never taken me.”

“Nonsense-”

“I’m programmed to hurt people!” The shout was hoarse and near hysterical. “What if I can’t stop myself? What if… I don’t want to hurt anyone! You were wrong, I’m a weapon - that’s all I’m good for!”

The fighting had stopped sometime during his own yelling, and Prompto felt warmth bloom in his eyes and trail down his cheeks. He reached up and touched the tears dripping down his chin. He felt his face scrunch up in embarrassment and humiliation. He couldn’t even get being an MT right. 

He was just a defect. He didn’t belong out here. 

“Did you forget my promise so easily?” Ignis asked, hands clasped on either side of Prompto’s shoulders. The MT dazedly looked at him, as if forgetting where he was. Iggys’ face was set sternly. 

“You are no weapon. Your name is Prompto and you proved yourself more human than not when you put your own life above that of a chocobo’s. Whether or not you believe it, we will not abandon you to a cruel a fate as you seem to think you deserve.”

“I don’t know who I am,” Prompto choked out. 

“And you think this is some race? You grew up in a lab, you went against everything you were taught to believe and you trusted us,” Ignis pronounced each word carefully, determination in each turn of his tongue. “And in return, we’ll trust you.”

Prompto’s throat closed up on him and his voice was shaky and uncertain. “How? I’m suppose to be the enemy.” 

“You were also supposed to kill us, but you didn’t follow those orders, now did you?”

Prompto shook his head, unable to find his voice. 

“You said your name was Prompto, was it?” 

Cindy walked forward. She looked a bit spooked, but her full lips were pulled back into a the familiar smile she always wore. She put a hand on her hip and bowed her head in greeting. 

“The name’s Cindy. Ya’ll just scared me and PawPaw a bit, but seein’ ya now, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble. You won’t cause us any, will ya?”

Prompto stared at her for a few more seconds and rapidly shook his head. 

Her teeth flashed. “Well, okay then. PawPaw, why don’t they take the camper then?”

Her grandfather and Noct were still hovering over each other, but when Cindy called him over, Cid slowly backed down and shot his granddaughter a hearty glare. “What are you doin’ invitin’ guests I don’t want?”

“Now they’ve helped us out plenty a’ times,” Cindy said. “I happen to trust the prince and his friends, so if they say that Prompto isn’t dangerous, well I see no harm in believin’ them.”

“Fine.” Cid finally spit out. He cast a side glance towards Prompto still in the Regalia and his lips tightened. “Don’t let me catch ya doin’ anything sinister, ya hear?”

He nodded again, this time strong enough to hear a pop in his neck. He didn’t let the tension leak from his body until Cindy bid them all a goodnight and Cid stalked away with her close behind. 

“That could have went better,” Gladio said. 

Noct sneered and crossed his arms. “Who does he think he is, pulling a gun on someone?”

“A grandfather, I’d suppose,” Iggy sat up and straightened his glasses. “But at least we have the camper for ourselves.”

“You okay, Prompto?” Noct asked. 

The MT nodded, and looked down at his helmet. He felt vulnerable without it, the constant protection - the way it hid his face and the emotions that played out across it. But he swallowed thickly and refused to put it on. “I’m fine. Thanks, for sticking up for me.”

Noct smirked. “Course.”

“Who’s ready for dinner and bed?” Gladio interrupted. “Because I think we’ve all had a pretty long day.”

“Agreed. We should pick up an order from Takka and eat in the camper. If there’s no objections?” Ignis asked. 

“Not as long as I don’t have to order,” Noct was walking towards the Regalia, eyes already closing halfway shut as he pulled open Prompto’s door. The MT didn’t pull away as Noct grabbed his wrist and began to drag him towards the camper. “Just get whatever.”

Ignis and Gladio watched them go. 

“Weird how quickly Noct warmed up to the MT. I don’t think I’ve seen him this relaxed with anyone but us,” Gladio examined. 

“I can’t say I’m against it,” Iggy said. “I know we should be more on guard, but there’s something much too genuine about Prompto that I find hard to ignore.”

“As long as he doesn’t try and stab us, I say let him be.”

Iggy strolled past the car and picked up the discarded helmet. It was a shame that the MT had to hide from the sun. He was animated at times, the few short bursts that shone through when he could talk. It was sad to have to keep him stuffed in that armor. 

But when they ordered four sandwiches to go and carried the small bags to the camper, they stumbled upon Noct laying on his stomach across a bunk bed with Prompt crouched on the ground with a deck of cards splayed out in his hands. Noct was teaching him some game, pointing at the pile in between them while the MT nodded here and there. 

It was a shock to see the armor discarded to the side, Prompto draped in a pair of Noct’s sleeping clothes that were a little too big for his frame. 

Prompto was small. A skinny thing with lean muscle and not much else. Ignis was a little shocked to notice the stark black lines of a bar code tattoo laid out across the front of Prompto's wrist. He grimaced, trying his best to hide the disgust from flooding his face. How anyone could tag a human like an object, he found unfathomable.

Prompto looked up when they entered, his eyes flashing over his own figure as if self conscious before turning away and ducking his nose behind his cards. Noct yawned and sat up, asking them to pass the food over already. 

“Come on, we’re hungry over here.”

“Ah, of course,” Iggy laid their bag by the prince, who eagerly dumped the wrapped packages out and toss one to Prompto. He dropped his cards in order to catch it and offered a sheepish smile at the mistake. 

Gladio and Iggy looked to one another, each noticing the blankets placed over the windows to block out the lamp light. If it weren’t for the single bulb, the camper would have been pitch black. 

“What?” Noct asked, taking a bite. “He looked uncomfortable.”

Gladio grabbed his own sandwich and sat down on a free bunk, leaning over and pretending to gag. “Sorry, kid,” he told Prompto, “but you ain’t going to bed yet. You need a bath or something.”

If Prompto had been nervous before, his face grew a deep shade of red and he sputtered indignantly, as if trying to explain himself. Yes, Ignis noticed, he did smell quite bad. But being confined to armor for four days would do that to you. He was sure they could fill some buckets with water if Takka allowed them and let Prompto do the rest. 

Until then, Noct and Prompto continued their game while the Shield offered fake pointers that flustered Prompto and, at one point, made him throw the cards at Gladio’s head. They had all laughed at that - even the MT - and it felt like a small success. 

So Iggy ignored the smell and sat down to indulge in his own meal. No, he didn’t feel like disrupting the mood quite yet.


	8. Chocobos and Decals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noct and Ignis got to have a bit of the spotlight so Gladio needs some to. Of course, he's not so straight forward in how he shows comfort. I don't think words were ever his strong suit *cough*like on that stupid train*cough*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, updates are gonna be a bit slower - maybe once or twice a week - now that spring break ended and its back to the grind. But that doesn't mean I won't try and update as regularly as I can. This is about the last chapter that deals with fluff. We have some heavy stuff coming up next, so enjoy this niceness while you can. We gonna have some Prompto angst real soon (and I know a lot of you came here for that).

Prompto couldn’t sleep. He was out of his armor and the feeling of the blankets draped over his slight frame and buried behind his ears kept him up. He buried his head a little deeper into the pillow and tried to tame the grin that wouldn’t go away. 

Noctis was sleeping above him and he could make out the slight snores of everyone else in the cabin. He was a bit surprised when they didn’t set up someone to keep watch throughout the night. It made him smile even wider in remembrance of Ignis’ words. 

He wasn’t hungry. He was warm. And he thought that, maybe, just maybe, these three could become something like friends. He grinned wider and buried his face in his pillow, trying not to let the idea excite him to much. 

Noctis had seemed to warm up to him very quickly. He had drug Prompto, still shaking from the encounter with Cid, into the camper and made quick work of his rampant mind. Clothes were thrown at his face and then he was sat down and asked if he knew how to shuffle. Frankly, Prompto had no idea how to even hold a deck of cards, so he was happy to just sit and listen to Noctis explain how the game worked. 

And when Gladiolus came around and started to tell him the wrong rules and screw him up, Prompto had thrown his cards at the Shield. It had felt like the natural thing to do and he had been mortified the moment he realized that he did it. But then Gladiolus laughed and so did Noctis. Even Ignis smiled at the antics and Prompto felt a weight lift from his chest as he laughed along with them. 

It had all felt so right. 

So when he was roused from his slumber, his limbs like lead and his head halfway off the pillow, he was reasonably upset to have to put his armor back on. The sun would be coming up soon, so he rejected Ignis’ help and clasped it on himself. He was given a small plate of eggs, courtesy of Takka’s store, and sat out with the retainer while the sky was still dark. 

Gladiolus and Noct wouldn’t be up until the sun peeked - Noct probably until the sun was well into the sky - so he enjoyed the quiet and the strong red tea he had been given. 

“Noct and I will be taking out a few hunts today,” Ignis had informed him, sipping at his own mug of coffee. “We need to stock up on gil for when we decide to move out, though that may be a while. Until then, Gladio will be staying with you for a majority of the day. You may have to run a few errands for Cid. I doubt we could do much else to show him you’re harmless other than warm him up to you.”

“What are you talking about?” Prompto asked quizzically. Ignis glanced at him, pausing in his sip. “Nothing says welcome like a shotgun to the face.”

As soon as Ignis realized he had cracked a joke, the retainer smiled and took a small gulp. Prompto bit into the last of his eggs, satisfaction written over his face. But all too soon, the sun was starting to peek out along the horizon of the barren landscape and Prompto was forced to place his helmet on his head. It felt more stifling than it had in a long time, and the daylight streamed over the metal and warmed it up too quickly to be comfortable. 

He didn’t voice the need to brush himself out of the heavy suit. He just sat silently and listened to Ignis cook the rest of breakfast. It was strangely comforting. Gladio came out a half hour later, dressed and claiming to be back in time for his meal after his workouts. He was jogging down the road and out of sight. 

And then Noct came out an hour later, sleep still heavy in his closed eyes and pajamas still draping from his shoulders. He mumbled a good morning and fell into his seat like a slumping pile of wet laundry, Ignis placing his plate on his lap and tucking a napkin into his shirt. 

“We have two hunts today, so you need to eat,” Ignis was scolding him. “It will be half a day's trek just to find a pack of troublesome ashen horns.”

“Aaaaaahhhhh.” Noct was just about to blindly shovel a forkful of egg into his mouth when he heard the news, drawing his head back over his seat and moaning like a child. “Seriously? Take Gladio. Those things are as brutish as he is.”

“As much as I’d like to travel with someone who won’t complain, I’m afraid you’ve been lacking in your training. This will be good for you.”

Noct rolled his head across his shoulder to glance at Prompto, eyeing him up and down. The MT stared back, unsure of what to do before the prince looked back to his retainer. “Can Prompto come with us?”

“Most certainly not,” Ignis said. “I’ve no doubt we will be running into plenty of imperial airships. Besides that, I’d prefer Prompto without a weapon.” He shot the MT an apologetic look. “At least for the time being.”

Prompto had no issue with it. If anything, he’d rather not wield the familiar rifle that he had been trained to use. It was cold and heavy and awkward in his hands. That, and running into a patrol full of his fellow MTs sounded even more horrible. So he waved to Ignis in a polite way of saying it was okay. He really didn’t mind. 

“Now finish your breakfast. We’ve a long walk ahead of us.”

“Can’t we take the chocobos?”

Prompto perked up at that. 

“No. As I’ve said, this is for your benefit. Legs and all.”

His shoulders slumped. He really wanted to see those birds again. He didn’t have much time to mull over it before Gladio came back sweaty and more awake than Noct ever looked. And when Ignis and Noct packed a few supplies and headed out to complete their hunts, Gladio took Prompto to the garage. 

Cid was sitting on a stout chair near the corner of the looming structure, his boots out in front of him and his sour face glaring at the two as they drew near. He could hear Cindy in the garage itself, Gladio having mentioned something back fixing up the Regalia’s headlights after Noct had a turn at driving a week ago. Apparently, he wasn’t very good at U-turns. 

Cid didn’t seem in the mood to talk to them, but he did bark a few choice words about lazy princes and backwards priorities. His gun was lying beside him, armed and ready to use should Prompto be less trustworthy than he’d been told. 

Gladiolus just waved him a good morning and scooted the MT along, his armor suddenly feeling too loud and clunky among the little gas station. Luckily, Cindy seemed to stick true to her word last night and popped up from behind the Regalia when they entered the garage. Her cheeks were smeared with grease and she was sweating slightly under the humid temperature rising outside. The Regalia itself had been wiped down, free of dust and dirt, even in its tires. Cindy patted it like a prized trophy and hefted herself from the ground. 

“Good mornin’ you two,” she beamed and clapped her hands. “The girl is almost as good as new. Now, I don’t want to see no more busted headlights on her. You really atta’ be more careful.”

“Got it. Though, you might want to tell the highness that,” Gladio scoffed. “He’s not a very good listener.”

“Oh, have we met? I can get anyone to listen,” Cindy smiled and Prompto felt itchy when her eyes fell on him. “How are you this mornin’ hun? Sleep well?”

He nodded, shifting his gaze to the side. She didn’t seem all that happy to see his red eyes last night. He didn’t want to see her pale again - that tan skin turn palor like she’d seen a ghost. But she just strolled up to them, face a mask of calmness, and waved her arms over the Regalia to show them her handiwork. 

“Now Prompto, I’m gonna need ya to keep the other boys in line,” she chided. “I’m sure the prince will listen to you.”

He nodded, short and stiff. If he could speak without sounding like a cellphone in a blender, he would gladly offer a small ‘yes, ma’am’. He stumbled forward when a hand clapped him on the shoulder. 

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Gladio said. “The prince acts like he’s known you his whole life. Next time he whines about wanting to drive, just say what we’re all thinking.”

Prompto nodded again. It was the only thing he knew how to do and he felt stupid. Like a one trick pony that bobbed its head in the hopes it’d receive a carrot for its efforts. Gladio seemed to sense his discomfort and pushed him further into the garage. 

“Why don’t you hang out in the shade for a bit,” Gladio told him. “Cindy, you mind watching him for a spell? I want to grab something.”

“Why don’t ya take a seat over there,” Cindy waved towards a little chair settled beside a work bench. “That way, if I need a tool or two, I’ll ask ya for help.” She smiled encouragingly when Prompto hesitated and Gladio backed out. Awkwardness settled on his shoulders and the MT did as he was told, forcing himself not to drum his fingers along his knees as he waited. 

Cindy hummed as she worked and Prompto settled into the stiff limbs of his armor like he had a thousand times. Despite the windows streaming through with sunlight and the woman that tinkered with the Regalia, wiping its windows clean and singing softly under her breath, the order to sit and wait was painfully familiar. It was like being back in an airship, sardined among others identical to him as they silently rode towards some outpost to guard or some road to barricade. 

He swallowed thickly. It wasn’t like that anymore. He was safe - as safe as he could be - and he didn’t have a weapon to grip or a squad to die alongside. 

The memories still persisted and his throat became dry. This wasn’t like sitting in the Regalia, watching the land rush by, listening to the radio and the pages of Gladio’s book turning. It wasn’t like hearing Noct’s soft snores or Ignis tapping a finger on the wheel in tune to the low music. 

He wished he could ask for a glass of water, but he couldn’t even speak like a normal human. He’d burn up in the sun if he took off his helmet to even attempt to drink anything. He bit his tongue, cursing himself for thinking about that now of all things. 

And then, just like that, all his thoughts banished when a familiar sound drew near. He stood up without waiting for an invitation and peered outside the garage, just as gladio was walking towards them with a self-satisfied smirk and a leather reign draped in his hand. Bouncing, yellow feathers swayed behind him and a large beaked head bobbed over his own impressive stature. Prompto went rigid, excitement pounding in his heart and locking his joints.

The large bird flapped its little wings when it noticed Prompto and cocked its head, but unlike the first encounter, it didn’t try and scurry away. It seemed hesitant, but with a small tug from Gladio, it obediently trudged forward. 

“Seem familiar?” Gladio asked. “It’s Noct’s chocobo. The same one you made friends with.”

Prompto couldn’t forced himself to move. He was scared a single creak of his armor would frighten the creature. Gladio quirked a brow and walked a little closer, the bird curiously following suit and leaning forward to eye Prompto with a gleaming look. Gladio huffed out a laugh when the MT reached out and ran his fingers along its throat like an awed child, a soft chirp of static slipping past his helmet. He didn’t notice and Gladio offered him the reigns. 

‘I’m holding a chocobo,’ Prompto thought, a grin stretching across his face. 

The bird lifted its beak when the strap was passed on and squawked. Prompto stiffened and his teeth clenched in panic, stepping away too quickly and agitating the bird. It pulled back and Prompto let go, another bout of static escaping his lips. 

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Gladio grabbed the reigns back and stilled the bird with a gentle press behind its neck. “If you get all antsy, the bird will too. Now, just be confident and…” he pulled a small bag out from his pocket, a little bit of green loosely strewn along the bottom. He pushed it into Prompto’s palms. 

“This is a special feed with got from Wiz, the man who runs the stables. The birds go crazy for it. Just put a little in your hand and hold it out.”

Prompto stared down at the bag and carefully loosened the opening. The chocobo squawked and tapped its large claws in anticipation, straining its head forward as Gladio held it back. 

“Better hurry up, if you don’t want a chocobo to knock you down,” the Shield teased. 

Excitedly, Prompto spilled the small bundle of feed into his palms. It was dry and slid along the metal of his gloves as he held it out. But the feeling of a heavy beak pressing against his hand, bobbing with each pinch of its mouth and jerk of its neck, bloomed warmth in his chest. He smiled so wide, it hurt and reached out to pet the fluffy feathers on the top of its head. 

Gladio laughed, earning a small glance from the MT. “You know, your hair kinda looks like a chocobo. If you fluffed it up a bit, it’d look like the back side of the bird. Like, uh, like a chocobutt.”

Prompto stiffened, indignation clouding his posture. His cheeks reddened and he reached up instinctively to brush down his hair. When his glove met metal, Gladio laughed heartily and shook his head. 

“I’m just teasing you, kid.”

Prompto huffed, but he was startled by a large head butting into his chest. The chocobo had finished its feed and was affectionately asking for more. It’s large brown eye side glanced the MT. He laughed and pet it, wordlessly conveying an apology. 

“Now ain’t ya’ll a cute couple,” Cindy walked up behind him and, once more, Prompto jumped like a startled cat. The chocobo jerked away and flapped its wings uselessly. 

“Ha, you’re jumpy for a soldier,” Gladio quipped, steadying the bird. “Don’t worry, Cindy doesn’t bite.”

“Now don’t tease the poor boy,” Cindy wagged a scolding finger, a hand behind her back as she trailed beside them. “Had I known ya liked chocobos so much, I’d have asked if ya wanted a special decal.”

“Decal?” 

“This little cutie right here,” Cindy unveiled the small decal from behind her back, a bright splash of yellow in the shape of Prompto’s favorite creature. “I think it’d look right at home on the Regalia.”

“Heh,” Gladio leaned down to survey the small sticker, a grin forming. “Well, I’m sure Noct wouldn’t mind. What do you say, Prompto?”

The MT was knocked back again by the chocobo’s insistent head and he reached out to steady himself, blushing when both Cindy and Gladio laughed. 

“Well, this one seems to like it,” Cindy nodded to the bird and twirled back to the Regalia with a wave of the decal. “I’ll have it prim and proper for ya.”

It was overwhelming. First, he had been tumbling down into his own twisted thoughts and memories and then, a feathered angel was trampling that darkness away with a simple squawk. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying hard to keep himself from shuddering. He had cried too many times this week - more than he had since he was just a kid who didn’t understand that emotion meant punishment. 

Yet, out here, he wasn’t degraded and harmed. He was treated like a human, and somehow, it scared him to death that he’d wake up from this wonderful dream. 

A strong arm fell over his shoulder and he fell back into reality with a cold jolt. Gladio looked down at him with a knowing nod, and the chocobo squeezed in between them, as if greedy for attention. 

“Come on, kid,” the Shield urged him forward and the fear of waking up crumbled. “Let’s go see how that decal came out.”


	9. Black Bile

Something was wrong. Prompto woke up and knotted his fingers against the fabric of his short, nails scraping his abdomen as pain blossomed under his palm. His stomach tightened and he closed his eyes. His muscles tensed and the bed creaked. 

He groaned, sucking in the breath. He didn’t want to wake anyone up. It would pass, whatever it was. He choked on a startled gasp as the pain strung up through his chest and settled in his throat. 

Oh.. 

He rolled over the edge of the bed, head hanging and tongue bitter as he heaved. It was too dark to see, but the slick, glossy vomit spread out against the floor unnaturally. It bled pitch against the shadows and he couldn’t stop himself from choking on it. Prompto, with every heave, tried to suck in a breath and gagged. The others were up. There were hands on his shoulders, hoisting him off the bed and onto the floor. He was on his knees, fingers kneading into his back as he kept vomiting. He thought he might pass out before it slowly trickled into a small stream down his chin. It smelt like rot. 

“Hey, take a breath,” Noct’s voice settled just behind his ear and the careful hands pulled him into a straighter position. “You okay? Wait, no, stupid question. Let’s get you back into bed.”

Prompto tugged himself away, shaking his head and biting back the nausea that made him want to fall into a crumpled heap. He wanted to argue that the smell was horrible, that he couldn’t just leave it there. His words were drowned under another wave of pain and another spew of vomit trailing over his hands. A light flickered on overhead, the single bulb grossly illuminating the black puddle. 

Black. That wasn’t right, now was it?

“Oh, holy…” Noct cursed something under his breath, and Prompto clamped his eyes shut to block out the words. Black. Black like the demon blood. The stuff that his veins were pumped full of. Stuff that shouldn’t be spreading out under him and seeping into his pants. He trembled, stomach clenching and unclenching. 

“Something's wrong,” he mumbled. 

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Gladio stooped low and scooped him off the floor. Prompto flailed and his hands fell over the shield's chest, fingers painted ashen and slick. How the man could stand to even touch him, he couldn’t fathom. He didn’t want to touch his own skin. 

“Set him on my bed,” Ignis said, glasses missing from his face. Prompto briefly noted how young he looked without them, stuffing down another bout of bile that rose in his throat. 

“No, no,” he mumbled tiredly. “The sheets, I’m all…”

“You’re sick,” Ignis stated. “I’ll grab a bucket. Don’t worry yourself over the sheets. We’ll clean them come morning.”

Prompto was about to argue. It didn’t feel right to stain everything with vile smelling tar, but his tongue suddenly felt overly swollen and sweat gathered along his brow and behind his neck. Maybe a bed did sound nice. 

Gladio stuffed him under the covers and pulled the sheets back enough so that, if he did vomit, it couldn’t stain the edges. Luckily, Ignis arrived shortly after with a metal pal. It’s lip was crusted with a line of old soap and he could smell algae when it was placed under him, against the bed. It made him want to hurl. So he did, and he retched until his lungs ached and his mouth felt raw. 

“I don’t think so, Your Highness,” Ignis was saying. Prompto glanced up with bleary eyes to see the retainer gently push Noct away from the black puddle and usher him out of the RV. “Stay outside until I have thoroughly cleaned the mess. We don’t know what it is.”

His stomach heaved with more than just sickness and he caught Noct’s gaze as he was led out by Gladio. The prince nodded to him, just once, and disappeared out into the night with nothing but thin pajamas and bed head. 

“I’ll grab some water and soap,” Gladio told Iggy before he trailed out behind his charge. The door shut and it was just the two of them. Ignis sighed and sat down on the other bed, glancing at the vomit and then at the MT it spewed from. 

“Has this happened before?”

Prompto shook his head. It felt really heavy. 

“No…”  
“Any ideas what may have caused it?”

“It’s not normal,” Prompto admitted. “I… I’m not sure… it really hurts.”

Ignis’ cold, professional attitude slight shifted and he frowned. His face softened as he stood up and curtly walked to Prompto’s side. He ran a hand over his forehead. The frown deepened. 

“You’re burning up. We have a few portions left over from our previous hunt. I’ll have Gladio fetch them for you.” He leaned forward and pressed a finger to Prompto cheek, tilting his head up to get a better look at the sweat drenching his collar. “Maybe two. You understand why I sent Noctis away.”

Prompto nodded. “I’m not safe.”

“No. That’s silly,” Ignis stood up and placed the covers more firmly under Prompto’s chin, tucking him in like a fretful mother. “You’re perfectly safe. It’s the color and smell of your sickness that concerns me. And not just concern for Noctis. I’m hoping it will pass in a day or so. Until then, we’ll make sure you’re properly taken care of.”

Prompto couldn’t help it. He smiled and a short laugh escaped him. He was offered a quizzical look. “It’s just, that’s really funny. You three, taking care of a sick MT. A prince and his partners, playing babysitter.”

“I sense a hint of self-deprecation in your tone.”

“I’m to tired to know what that means.” His eyes closed shut, even as he struggled to stay awake. 

“It means I want you to go to sleep knowing this; we’ll help you because we want to - because I find your company to be quite uplifting to the prince. And to me and Gladio.”

“Like a puppy?” He smiled, head tilting as he drifted off. 

“No. Like a friend.”

He fell asleep, content with such a simple answer. 

 

Two days passed. He wasn’t getting better. Ignis and Gladio had become a constant presence beside his bed, forced to take out the bucket when it filled over a matter of hours and empty it out. Noct had shouldered his way in, despite their protests, and helped - even if his face was warped into a disgusted grimace each time Gladio finally got fed up and made him empty the bucket. 

So far, there were no ill effects. The black bile didn’t make them sick or turn them into monsters. It was just gross. But Prompto, the more it dispelled from his body, the paler and weaker he got. He was barely awake or coherent half the time he was laying in the bed. And when those eyes - red that dimmed like doused coals - traced one of their faces or followed their voice, there was hardly an recognition. He couldn’t eat or drink and it showed. 

The vomiting grew less frequent, and so did Prompto’s awareness. 

By the third day, confined to a camper and in constant darkness, Noct hadn’t been able to handle it. He left as soon as the sun set and stomped off after Prompto had failed to wake up anytime during the day. Ignis and Gladio exchanged glances. The MT would be fine by himself for a few moments, they figured. He was asleep after all, and they doubted he’d wake up anytime soon. 

They found the prince in front of Takka’s diner, just shy of the diner’s lights and seated near the trash bins. He was settled on the asphalt, legs crossed and hands buried in his hair. 

“It’s not fair.” He muttered when Ignis and Gladio drew close. 

“And what would that be?” Despite his discomfort, Ignis sat down on the rather disgusting ground. Gladio settled beside him with a grunt, the three of them in a tight circle and surrounded by trash. It wasn’t much of an upgrade from the camper. 

“He didn’t get to live a life,” Noct ground out, refusing to lift his face. “Whatever the hell they did to him, he’s paying the price. Isn’t he? What if- what if he doesn’t wake up?”

“It’s…” Gladio trailed off, huffing as he tried to find the right words. “It’s a possibility we can’t ignore.”

“So what? We just sit around until he stops breathing?” Noct sounded pained. He looked like a child, as young as he really was. A child who lost his home and his father and his sense of direction in life.

“We keep trying. And we find a way to help him recover.” Ignis said firmly. 

“Potions didn’t work. Elixirs didn’t work. We can’t just drag him to a hospital,” Noct spit. “When the hell have we seen a doctor since we’ve left Insomnia?”

“He’s a magitek trooper,” Gladio intervene. “Maybe he’s just not meant to survive outside his armor. We can’t say we didn’t try-”

“Don’t say that.”

“Noct-”

“Please, don’t.”

He looked up and unshed tears were brimming along his lashes. He shook his head and twisted his eyes shut. “I shouldn’t care so much,” he said. “I shouldn’t. He’s just some soldier we took in, but… but he doesn’t deserve this. He was fine a few days ago. He was fine and now…”

“We won’t give up.” Ignis repeated. “We’ll do whatever we can to keep him alive. But we made need some help.”

“Help? Like what?” 

“We have allies, despite our situation. He may be as clueless as we are, but it may be worth a shot.”

“Ignis. Stop being cryptic and spit it out,” Gladio said. 

“Cor Leonis.” Gladio and Noct both straightened. “If my memory serves me, he was last seen in Coernix Station assisting the hunters there.”

“Cor? You think he’d be okay with us harboring an MT?” Gladio asked. 

“What if he’s not?” Noct argued. 

“It may be our best option.” Ignis said gently. “Cor wouldn’t hurt Prompto. Not if we explained the situation.”

“So what? We just pack up and go to Coernix hoping he’s still there?”  
They all went quiet and Gladio glanced over his shoulder. He stared at the camper with steely eyes and nodded. “I’m up for a short road trip. If it means giving ourselves another option, then I’m all for it.”

Noctis seemed hesitant but nodded along with him. “Okay. Okay, fine. As long as we know for sure he won’t hurt Prompto.”

“It’s settled then.” Ignis stood up, brushing himself off and holding out a hand for the prince. “Let’s go find Cor.”


	10. Sandwiches and Attempted Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto gets worse. And worse. And Noct seems to be ignoring it.

For as long as he could remember, Prompto wasn’t like the rest of his peers. The facilities were always teeming with the monotonous footsteps of trailing bodies and the scrape of metal hangars. It was day after day of the same routine. Gray food, training regimens among a throng of other bodies stuffed into metal suits and a general lack of life. 

The other MTs were different. They fit into the lifelessness, thrived in it even. They didn’t flinch when a swords smashed into the side of their helmet when they screwed up a drill. They didn’t fidget their fingers, drumming them along their thighs when they were forced to stand still and quiet for hours at a time. And when he saw their faces, on the occasions they were tested and prodded and made to lay out in restraints as black ink was pumped into their blood, their faces were impassive and uncaring. Just like the metal they wore. 

Prompto couldn’t help the slight twitch a his brow when the thick needle was pushed into his bloodstream. He couldn’t help the beads of sweat that sewed themselves along his forehead as a searing ache warmed his arm and spread to his chest. But over the years, he forced himself to look as impassive as the rest of them. And still, he could never get it down completely. 

When he had stopped growing completely, he was issued his permanent suit. A green mask and black pits burrowing into the eyes that would glow like a monster’s when fitted over his face. He had never felt less human being stuffed into an airship and carted out from the only life he had ever known. But he had also never felt more defective when he was dropped off at some imperial base to live out the rest of his days as a guard. 

He had cried the very same night,still as a statue and tears streaming down his cheeks as he held back breathy sobs. And the night after that, and the same one after that. Human, is what it felt like. The other MTs weren’t like him, he thought time and time again. They could handle this. They were built for this. He should have been decommissioned. 

And then that man had shown up. Someone important, he realized, standing in a row of troopers out in the courtyard, watching and waiting as an airship stooped onto the platform. A man escorted by a large group of MTs with their axes drawn and their postures straight and commanding. A man that was strolling along causally beside Caligo Ulldor - the general that occupied their base and scared the living daylights out of Prompto. He’d seen the general shoot an MT once before, after he received some news that made him curse. The MT had just been standing there. It didn’t even seem to notice when the barrel was pressed against its temple and it took everything Prompto had not to flee. 

Yet his companion, the one so relaxed and smiling, looked somewhat approachable. He was dressed in layers of cheap, thrift store clothing that swept along the ground. Maroon hair was slightly tangled and disheveled, his aloof appearance topped off with a simple black hat that he tipped when greeting Caligo. Prompto was too far away to hear what was being said, his station pressed back against the outer reaches of the courtyard where the hangar lay. He didn’t miss the way the newcomer’s lazy gaze swept across the courtyard, or the how he grinned when he looked over the MTs that heavily guarded the base. 

Prompto couldn’t help it. Those eyes had been, for lack of a better word, a tad intimidating despite his easy appearance. And the MT shifted on his heel. It was hardly noticeable, just a slight change in posture and an attempt to disregard his own nervousness. But when he pulled his gaze from the ground, he caught the newcomer staring at him - if only for a second - before he returned to chatting happily with Caligo. 

He disappeared among the buildings and metal towers, and Prompto’s heart refused to stop hammering. Something bad was going to happen, he felt it. He wanted to start walking. He wanted to just keep moving towards the exits and force his way out into the open fields that he knew existed beyond these suffocating walls. 

He couldn’t breath. A lump filled his throat and he gasped. He couldn’t help it. His gloves reached up and grasped at his chest, fingers pressing under the slotted grooves of his chest plate. Prompto wretched, a familiar motion that had him keeling over onto his knees and warmth flooded from his mouth and filled his helmet. 

“You’re not like the others, now are you?”

That smooth voice was above him, but he couldn’t meet their gaze. His helmet was filling with vile, black blood. IT seeped up his nose and into his eyes and he went blind, choking and spasming in his panic. He reached out towards the ground, metal scraping concrete as he dragged himself forward. He was suddenly falling, armor shedding from his limbs and something hard cracking against his temple. 

He scrambled onto his stomach and the uncomfortable warmth of a blanket tangled and twisted against his limbs. His head ached where it had struck the floor, and there were gentle hands lifting him up and checking the bump. He pushed them away, panic still filling every crevice of his being as he cucked in moutfuls of air and ran his fingers over his face. 

Flesh. There was flesh and it was soft and it wasn’t covered in metal and he wanted to breath, but it was getting hard and he couldn’t suck in enough mouthfuls - 

“Breath, Prompto,” someone carefully shifted beside him. “Take deep breaths and calm down. You’re safe.”

The MT looked at Ignis, the man knelt beside him in rumpled pajamas and a lack of glasses. A hand was reaching out, stilled but waiting in case Prompto needed help. He realized he was sitting on the floor and that he wasn’t in a base at all. He was in the camper. 

He covered his face with his hands and drew his knees up to his chest. With a shuddering breath, he willed himself to calm down. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled tiredly. His throat hurt. His whole body hurt. Nausea was washing over him again and held back the bile that rose against his tongue. 

“It’s no fault of your own,” Ignis assured him. The retainer carefully leaned forward, and when Prompto gave no protest, helped ease him off the hard ground and slid him back into bed. The covers where untangled and laid back over him. “How do you feel?”

A hand was pressed to his forehead, but Prompto already felt himself falling back asleep, numb to the touch. “Not too hot,” he said. 

“We’ll figure this out,” Ignis didn’t miss the slight pitch in the young man’s voice. And Prompto didn’t bother to hide the residue of his panic. “Meanwhile, I suggest you try to get some more sleep. I’ll be right here if you need me. Don’t be afraid to ask for anything.”

Prompto nodded, but it felt airy and light. He had already forgotten what he had been so worked up about. He was safe. He had friends here. He didn’t have to be scared if he showed emotion, he told himself. He drifted off to sleep, memories a suave voice left behind to rot. 

 

The next morning, Prompto slept without disruption. 

Gladiolus was assured that the young man would be taken care of until he returned. Gladio, after all, was the willing volunteer to track down their much needed help. And by willing, he griped about having to drive the Regalia to some place that Cor may or may not be and waste his precious time on a scavenger hunt. He had tried to get Iggy to go in his place, but the retainer insisted that he was, out of all of them, the most qualified to look after a sickly Prompto. And, of course, the prince couldn’t just wander off on his lonesome. 

In response, the Regalia roared to life and Ignis waved the Shield goodbye. He was treated to a pleasant middle finger and a sharp grunt of the engine that had him grinding his teeth. 

“What a charming man,” Ignis mumbled, turning back on his heels to the camper. 

Noctis was pretty much glued to the damn thing since Prompto had become sick. And the last few days had been nothing but vomit and black stickiness and a horrid stench that grew thicker with every passing hour. It was a worrisome sign that Prompto was steadily growing worse. And last night had been no better. 

The poor thing had woken up in a fit of panic. Prompto had been hyperventilating, drawing in ragged gasps. His eyes had shifted wildly, as he didn’t recognize where he was. When Ignis had tried to reach out and help, he was shocked to find himself shoved rather ungracefully away. 

Gladio and Noct had just watched as Prompto was dragged back into his bed and laid to back to rest. They all shared glances, but no one said anything. At least there hadn’t been vomit this time. 

But that had been two days ago, and Gladio wasn’t returning yet. He had called them, complained that Cor had been at the station but wandered off on some stupid hunt, and then hung up after Ignis tried to tell him to have patience. The Shield was going to be busy for a while. But his absence wasn’t worrying. 

Prompto was.

He had stopped vomiting. But he had also stopped waking up. He was dead to the world, and despite the slow beating of his heart and the soft breaths of sleep, he wouldn’t open his eyes. Ignis expected the worse. They had no idea how to treat Prompto or his condition. If anything, he decided that maybe it was for the best. 

He would never tell Noct, but perhaps a slow, peaceful death that came while he slept would be better than losing his life to the slow decay of black bile and constant pain. Ignis hadn’t much hope for Prompto to begin with. Demon blood was a fickle thing. It didn’t make the idea any less upsetting though, and after he picked up some dinner from Takka and pulled himself into the camper, it became even more so. 

Noctis was lounging beside Prompto’s bed. The prince had his feet propped up on the headboard, laying with his back to the floor and his hand behind his heads. He had been off on some scavenger hunt for Cindy and rode off on a chocobo to meet up with a vender who the mechanic had purchased some parts from. Ignis had hoped it would get him out of the camper and under the sun for the rest of the day, but Noct had made it there and back in record time. He hadn’t expected him for another few hours, at least. 

And he wasn’t expecting a little paper bag to be sitting on the prince’s chest, a red ribbon tied around its mouth.

Ignis hummed and set the bags down on the small side table, stepping lightly beside Noct until he was peering down at his face. Noct’s lids slowly opened and he stared up at Ignis with an impassive face. 

“Hey, Iggy,” he mumbled, a yawn on his lips. “Thought you were getting some ingredients for Takka.”

“Yes, well, it was a rather simple task. It appears we’ve become something of errand bos for all of Hammerhead.”

Noct scratched at his eye and nodded. “Tell me about it. Cindy doesn’t even ask anymore. She just demands.”

Ingis pulled a sandwich from the bag and offered it the prince. He reached out, taking it to his lap and setting his paper bundle to the side as he sat up. Ignis sat at the edge of his own bed, laying out a napkin against his knees. 

“And what might that be?” he asked, pointing to the package. 

Noct smirked, a faint smile as he drug it a little closer. “A gift.”

“Hmm? And who for?”

“It’s for when Prompto wakes up. Something that will keep him from being bored all the time.”

“How thoughtful.” The answer felt stale on his tongue. Ignis didn’t want to shatter that unbreakable hope that Prompto would wake up, but Noct didn’t seem worried in the slightest that that was a possibility. It was a far cry from when he and Gladio had found him among the trash bins only days ago, and was saddened to know that Noct was purposefully avoiding bad thoughts. 

He bit into his sandwich, troubled that he couldn’t cook anymore. They had been working hard in Hammerhead. Cid had upped the price of the camper, refusing them to stay without a “MT fee” and forcing them to scrounge up enough gil to keep themselves from being booted off the property. Takka is nice enough to give them free meals, so long as they helped him out when he needed it. Still, cooking was familiar and calming. This whole situation was frustrating and nerve wracking. 

Ignis swallowed the bite and refrained from telling Noct that Prompto may not make it. The prince was digging into his own meal, picking out lettuce and olives and overall making a mess. He was acting so normal, so unaffected, and Ingis frowned. This wasn’t healthy. He wished Gladio would hurry up and return. He didn’t want to have to be the one to talk to Noctis about alternative routes, not alone at least. 

“Is the sandwich not to your liking?” Ignis asked lightly. 

Noct pursed his lips, flicking a tomato onto the rumpled napkins. He shrugged. “Eh, it’s fine. I’m just not very hungry.”

Silence fell back over them, and Ignis felt at a loss of words. Strange. He always knew what to say, if only to help ease the prince forward and pick him back up on his feet. But this whole situation left him feeling numb and tired. 

“You think when we leave here, we can get supplies to make that green curry?” Noct asked suddenly. 

Ignis perked up. “Of course. I didn’t know you liked it so much.”

“It’s not my favorite,” Noct admitted. “But Prompto likes it. He talked about it a few times.”

Ah, yes. That was the first thing he had given Prompto upon their first real meeting. His heart clenched again at the thought that Prompto may never get a chance to taste it again and forced himself to nod, ever composed. “I’d be happy to make him as much as he likes.”

Silence lapsed again as they ate. 

And then all hell broke loose and Noct was on the ground with hands clasped around his throat and his sandwich scattered around him - a mess of may and bread staining his jacket. Ignis stood up, his own meal falling to his feet as he lurched forward and grabbed onto the writhing body pressed against Noct’s chest. Prompto was awake, his fingers digging into Noct’s neck and his arms shaking with the strain. The blanket was laid out over them, and Noct was kicking out, eyes wide and shocked as an angry snarl ripped itself from Prompto’s lips. 

“Prom! What the hell are you doing?!” 

The MT grunted as Noct placed a foot against his stomach and threw him off. Prompto hit the wall and rolled onto the ground, reaching out and grasping Noct’s ankle. The prince was jerked forward, but Ignis hopped over his and snapped a heel across Prompto’s face. The young man hit the ground, but his body kept moving, unwavering as he kept reaching out, face twisted in rage and anger. 

Ignis summoned a dagger and raise dit past his chin. The Pommel was swiftly struck down against Prompto’s temple and he fell dead to the world once more. The retainer stared down at the crumpled heap, mind flooding with regret and worry. Black ink was seeping out from behind Prompto’s closed lids, pooling down his cheeks were more bile fell past his lips. It was dribbling out so heavily, a small puddle was already forming around his head and staining his blond hair. 

“Ignis-”

The retainer turned around, his dagger disappearing in a flash of blue at the broken crack in Noct’s voice. The prince was knelt on the ground, breaths heavy and face twisted up in sad anger. He was staring at Prompto and his hands were curled up into fists, nails digging into the floor. His lips peeled back and his teeth were ground together, chin lifting to meet Ignis. 

“He just can’t escape them, can he?” Noct’s voice was quiet, but a fury was surging under his words. Dangerous and scary. “No matter where he goes, those damn Niffs have their hands around his throat.”

“Noct, we can’t-”

“This isn’t him!” Noct snapped. “Prompto isn’t like this! Niflheim did this! He getting better, he was talking more! He smiled and now-” Noct cut himself off and sharply jerked his head away, glaring at the scattered remains of his sandwich. There was an internal struggled running through his head, and Ignis didn’t have a clue how to help. 

The retainer closed his eyes briefly and looked to the MT in question. He was back to sleep, face relaxed and chest hallowing up and down. As if he hadn’t just tried to murder the prince. 

Ignis sighed. He really hoped Gladio would hurry up and return. He wasn’t qualified for this. Not in the slightest.


	11. Update

I'm sorry for the absence of updates. I understand that I have a lot of readers eager for updates, and I know how much it sucks to have to wait for something you're excited for. Unfortunately, the last few weeks have interrupted my writing. I was in the hospital for attempted suicide, and right now I'm working on fixing my problems. I just want to let anyone reading this know, that if you are suffering any kind of depression or struggling with things that you may be embarrassed about - tell someone. Really, tell someone. Family or friends, find someone you trust enough to help shoulder your burdens and help find you professional aid. Life is worth living, even if it doesn't feel like it right now. 

Anyway, as for the story, I will continue it. Just not right now. It may be a long while until the next chapter, so I actually want anyone willing to know that, if you want, you can adopt the story and share your own continuation. In fact, I encourage it.

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited, so if you find any mistakes, feel free to let me know!


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